Invisible Girl
by turtle53
Summary: Violet Potter's life changed when her brother discovered he was a wizard and he left her for Hogwarts. She became even more invisible. AU.
1. Chapter 1

This fic was inspired by the song Superboy and the Invisible Girl from the musical Next to Normal. I listened to it so many times and this just fell into my head so I had to type it out! Please review=D

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><p><span>Invisible Girl <span>

In Violet Potter's own opinion, there was nothing special about herself. She was small and skinny. She had unruly black hair that fought against every comb and brush ever made. Her eyes were lackluster brown, not the vibrant green of her brother's. She lived in a small walk-in closet between the upstairs bathroom and her cousin Dudley's second bedroom. Her relatives ignored her, centering all the abusive attention on her brother because she was not even worth that sort of notice.

She thought she was very much like her brother; she looked like him except the eyes and the glasses, they were both quiet, and they both had odd events that happened around them.

When the bullies chased Harry, he ended up on the roof. When they chased Violet, _they_ ended up on the roof.

When Aunt Petunia had given Harry a terrible haircut, his hair had grown back overnight. When Aunt Petunia had _tried_ to give Violet a trim, her hair refused to be cut, the scissors nearly breaking with the amount of effort her aunt exerted.

She had not, however, been able to speak to snakes, despite her repeated attempts to do so after the zoo incident.

"I don't know how it happened, Vi. I was talking to the snake, not expecting any sort of answer, and then the snake started replying," he said when she had asked him for the hundredth time how he had managed to speak to a snake. They were in her closet, hiding him from Uncle Vernon because somehow his coffee mug had shattered, blowing hot coffee all over him, and he had chosen to blame Harry for it.

She had nodded, accepting the answer for now, and curled into a ball on his lap. This comforted him, having at least one person who cared in a house full of people who didn't, and this was precisely the reason that the Dursley's often kept these two separated. They didn't want either to get the idea that someone loved them.

When the letters started coming for Harry she was disappointed that, out of the hundreds that came, not a single one was for her. She went outside when no one was looking and marched straight up to a tawny owl and handed them a piece of paper asking about her own letter. She told the owl to take it back to his owner because maybe they had just forgotten about her like many people were so apt to do. To her slight shock, the owl took the paper in its talons and flew off, just before Uncle Vernon dragged her back into the house, calling her a freak and fighting off the questions of neighbors.

She tried to sneak a letter for Harry when the mail came, quickly picking it up from the pile on the floor and rushing quietly to her closet (the very thing she thought Harry _should_ have done when he received the first letter, but then she always had been sneakier than her brother). Unfortunately for her, it was one of those rare days when Dudley was late for breakfast and he caught her on the stairs, hurriedly pushing something into the back pocket of her jeans.

"Dad! Dad! She's got a letter!" He called as she tried to push past him but to no avail. He was simply too big.

Her uncle came thundering from the kitchen and halfway up the stairs, trapping Violet between the two large males. She quit trying to struggle past Dudley and briefly considered jumping over the railing (she _could_ make it, they were too slow for her, but she had no idea where Petunia was and she wasn't about to escape from the dunderheads only to run straight into the one with a bit of intelligence) before giving up and handing the letter over to her uncle.

When Harry was moved into Dudley's second bedroom she had hoped they would share. She and Harry tried to bargain; they would be really quiet, they wouldn't cause trouble, they would forget about the letters. But nothing would sway them and to make sure they were a good enough distance apart, Violet was moved into his old cupboard.

Violet actually enjoyed it when they moved to the house on the rock. She liked the smell of the ocean and the cool spray, even if it was cold already, and the fact that Dudley was miserable.

She was still awake when the giant man broke down the door. She sat up quickly, startled, but oddly enough the fear faded and she wasn't that afraid of the huge person in the doorway.

She listened to him tell Harry that he was a wizard. It came as a surprise to Harry, but Violet found that it explained a lot, and she hoped that she was one too. But before she had time to ask, the man spoke about their parents.

She sat very still, listening carefully as he explained that they, Lily and James Potter, had been murdered by someone named Voldemort, who had been on the rise to power. She had gasped when he said that Voldemort had tried to kill Harry when he was only two years old. She wanted to reach out to Harry and hug him but she was trapped to her seat on the sofa, afraid to move lest she miss some of the story.

For some unknown reason, Harry had survived and Voldemort vanished, making Harry a hero before he knew what a hero was.

Her eyes widened. Her brother was famous; her small, quiet, shy older brother was the most famous person in a world he had never been in.

She did ask if she could come when the man was going to take Harry to buy his school supplies, but the man said it wasn't a good idea. He had been sent to pick up Harry and only Harry. So she and Harry hugged goodbye and she was left to stew over being forgotten again.

When he came back he tried to show her all that he had gotten in what he called Diagon Alley but Uncle Vernon had locked it all in the closet she used to live in the moment he returned. Her relatives worked harder to keep the two siblings apart, hoping to prevent Violet from getting any ideas about being magical. Harry was set to work outside and Violet was given hours and hours of housework.

When she did manage to see her brother, when their tasks allowed them to cross paths or they "forgot" to tell their uncle and aunt they had finished a chore, they talked about what life might be like at a school for witches and wizards. He worried that he wouldn't fit in, that he would be too far behind because he never knew he was magical, that the bullies there would be even worse because they had the ability to turn him into a toad.

"You're famous there!" she had said, patting him consolingly on the shoulder as they stood by the trashcans in the side yard. He was supposed to be taking a bin to the driveway so it could be picked up the next morning, and she was supposed to be taking the trash from the house to the bin outside.

"I'll bet no one messes with you. I'll bet everyone loves you and the teachers don't make you do any work and you never get in trouble or have to clean or anything. From what that huge man said, you were their savior!"

He smiled at her, thinking about his new life far away from his abusive aunt and uncle where people didn't know him as the freaky kid who always had weird things happening to him, and then frowned slightly, a crease forming in his brow.

"I wish you could come with me, Vi."

She looked at him hopefully, elbows resting on the lid of the bin. "Can't I? I promise I won't get in the way. I'll be good, quieter than I am here!"

He shook his head sadly. "I asked and I told him all that but Hagrid said you had to be eleven to go to Hogwarts, no exceptions."

Her face fell and so did she, her elbow slipping and sending the lid crashing to the ground. Both she and Harry stared at it, holding their breath in the hope that the sound had gone unnoticed. It hadn't.

"Violet! What is taking so long?" Her aunt screeched from the kitchen. "You had better not be talking to the boy! I told you you're not allowed to do anything other than the chores I give you until you are done!"

Harry hurriedly picked up the lid and replaced it, sending Violet an apologetic look before scurrying off in the direction of their uncle's booming voice.

"GET OVER HERE BOY! YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED—"

Violet blocked him out and rushed back into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia waited with a bottle of cleanser and a handful of rags.

Her tenth birthday was much like all the other ones she had; the Dursleys treated it as if it were a normal August 4th, just another day of the year, except at breakfast when they handed her a box of pens. Harry on the other hand actually put some effort into his gift, having acquired a large amount of money in the Wizarding World. She loved the collection of unicorn figurines he bought her that he had somehow managed to keep away from his uncle's eyes and out of the closet where every other magical item he owned was. To her delight the unicorns could move on their own and when she set them on the shelf in her cupboard they galloped around, neighing and nuzzling her fingers when she reached down to pet their porcelain heads.

She wasn't allowed to see him off at the train station. It was decided that for her own welfare it was best she stay home, as to not anger her relatives and face a week in the cupboard with no food. So she hugged him goodbye in the entry way of the Number 4 Privet Drive, holding him tightly and refusing to cry because she never gave in to tears. He told her he would write everyday but he would send them in a package at the end of the month because the Dursleys wouldn't like seeing an owl every day. He told her to be careful and quiet and not do anything that would anger them because now he wouldn't be there to divide their abusive attentions and to tell him if it ever became too much and he would do everything he could to get her entrance into Hogwarts, even if it required him to get on his hands and knees and beg the headmaster or to eat something nasty.

She held onto him until Uncle Vernon pulled him away, quite carefully for him as he was somewhat afraid of his nephew although he would never admit it. She watched as they got into the car and drove off, keeping her eyes on the car until it turned and she couldn't see it anymore. Aunt Petunia immediately set her to work dusting the already spotless living room.

The year without Harry began much the same as every other day of her life. She was made to do chores all day, had to let Dudley pick on her because if she beat him up again he might cry to his parents (she always thought it would be embarrassing for a boy to admit he got beat up by a girl a year younger than him, but apparently Dudley was secure enough in his boyhood that he could tell on her) and locked in her cupboard at night until her aunt decided to release her in the morning.

And then school started and everything began to get worse. Because Harry was gone, the Dursleys had invented the lie that he was sent to a school that reformed boys. It spread around quick enough, everyone glad that they had finally done something with that incorrigible boy. The other children at her school made fun of her, and him, and said they were all better off without him and they hoped that the people at the school beat him every day and a million other things that all blended because she didn't spend much time thinking about them.

Unfortunately for the other children, and for Violet, she did spend a lot of time defending her brother. Her first week back she got into so many fights that she was suspended for the next two weeks. Violet was satisfied, having sent seven kids to the infirmary in only one day when they had tried to start a fight with her, and three of them were older. The Dursleys, however, were not happy, and for the next two weeks she had to clean every room in the house twice a day and was only allowed to eat dinner if she met Aunt Petunia's standards.

When she was allowed back at school, she learned that the other students had been warned by their parents. They were not to go near her, not even to make fun or start a fight. She rather enjoyed the feeling that others were afraid of her, snapping her teeth a student if they stared too long and silently laughing to herself when they quickly averted their eyes.

She spent her time alone in the sandbox, making castles and various other structures. When it rained, as it did often, she would venture to the library, picking up any book that she fancied and diving in. She loved adventure stories the most, staying away from the love stories so many other girls her age enjoyed. She imagined herself as the hero, climbing mountains or scaling trees in the middle of a jungle. Solving riddles and puzzles only to set off a trap and have to run and fight her way out.

Thus began her life as the invisible girl.

She was ignored at school by teachers and students alike. No one spoke to her in the streets as she walked home after school. Even the Dursleys began to ignore her, aside from the list of chores she received every day and the locking of her cupboard every night. She wondered if, now that Harry wasn't here, they even cared what she did. Apparently it just wasn't the same, abusing her in place of him.

The first package of letters she received from Harry contained thirty letters, one for every day, just as he promised. The owl showed up on the doorstep as she was beating the dust out of the welcome mat, and refused to leave until she had snuck into the kitchen and brought back a piece of bacon leftover from breakfast.

His letters spoke of an extraordinary castle, with a huge dining hall that had a ceiling bewitched to look like the sky outside. There were ghosts that traveled throughout the school, and even a poltergeist named Peeves that caused trouble to no end. He wrote about his classes and how the first time he was late to one, he arrived to see that the teacher wasn't there; feeling relieved, he sat at his desk only for the cat on the teacher's desk to turn into his professor! He got a week's worth of detention, but it was worth it to see that particular piece of magic.

He had made some friends as well. A tall, red headed boy named Ron who had a lot of siblings and was very funny. He liked to play Wizard's chess, a game vastly different from its muggle (non-magic people, he explained) counterpart in that the pieces actually moved and talked on their own!

There was also a rather clumsy boy named Neville, and another named Seamus who had a bad habit of accidentally blowing things up. And a know-it-all girl named Hermione, who he found a tad annoying but liked her overall.

He wrote that he wasn't too far behind; a lot of other students had no idea they could use magic until their letter arrived either. But, contrary to what she had said, the teachers still made him do work just like the other kids and no one gave him any special attention.

He ended every letter asking about her, how school was going and how were the Dursleys treating her, reminding her of his promise before he left.

When she had finished the last letter, she tucked them into a shoebox she had nicked from Aunt Petunia years ago to keep everything she deemed valuable in, and then snuck into Dudley's room to steal a couple pieces of paper and a pen. Returning to her cupboard she penned her reply, having to sneak back into Dudley's room halfway through for more paper. She mostly commented on how wonderful his school and new friends seemed, and how she wished she could be there and hopefully her letter would come before the next school year.

In a small group of paragraphs near the end, she crammed in the story of her suspension and her invisible life. She told him not to worry, because she was fine, and then she signed the bottom and folded the papers small enough to fit inside an envelope she took from Uncle Vernon's briefcase. She wandered back outside, wishing she hadn't sent the owl off because now how was she supposed to send the letter? But it reappeared almost instantly on the doorstep and she put the envelope in its talons and patted it on the head before it took off.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Violet wished more than ever that she could go to Hogwarts. She had dreams of chasing an elusive golden ball around a field while flying on a broom. She imagined herself standing up to a ten foot mountain troll and making a potion that put her to sleep but fooled everyone into thinking she was dead. She wanted to eat the Hogwarts feasts instead of the piece of bread and cheese she got with the Dursleys.

She wanted to be a witch more than she had ever wanted anything.

For a present, she managed to sneak a letter and several Mars Bars into the parcel containing the fifty pence piece her aunt and uncle were sending to Harry. It was all she had money for, and she didn't know what sort of odd candy they had in the Wizarding World, but Mars Bars were his favorite.

He sent her a small collection of chocolate frog cards, the ones he had doubles of. Her favorite was the one of a man named Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. He looked grandfatherly and had twinkling blue eyes and had worked with dragon blood!

She experienced a shock when she put her cards down to go to the bathroom and when she came back, the people on the cards were gone! She stared at them, wondering what on earth had happened, and then put them away, chalking it up to something magical that she didn't understand.

She had no idea anything was wrong with Harry, though he was sending less and less letters; his last package had only contained fifteen, but she assumed he was busy with his classes and all the wonderful things at Hogwarts. She didn't know about Nicolas Flamel or a professor that tried to kill him or a three headed dog or a mirror that showed their parents or the sorcerer's stone.

She continued with her life not knowing the sort of danger her brother was in and it was probably better this way. Had she known, there was a good chance she would kidnap an owl or run about the streets telling everyone about Hogwarts, just so someone from the Wizarding World would come get her and she could demand they take her to Hogwarts where she could defend her brother.

But she didn't know and so she didn't make up any crazy schemes to get into Hogwarts. Instead she found ways to annoy Dudley without getting into any trouble. It consisted of one thing and one thing only: move the object he was using when he wasn't looking.

She was quite adept at it, being small and quiet and sneaky. When he set his fork down to take a drink of his orange juice at breakfast as she was walking past him to set the bacon on the table, she would grab it and put it down by Uncle Vernon while he read his paper. Dudley would then yell at his father, who could not understand how the fork had moved, and by the time this happened Violet was well out of the room and therefore out of blaming distance.

She did this whenever she could: when he was too engrossed in a television show she would move the remote, causing more shouted complaints that it had disappeared when a commercial finally came around and he wanted to change the channel; the occasional times he did his homework, setting down his pencil to take a long snack break, she didn't just move the pencil, she took it altogether. Eventually, she had enough pencils on the shelf of her cupboard to fill three pencil boxes, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were growing tired of having to buy a new package every other day for their son.

The fun in this only lasted so long, though she continued to do it, and she found herself wishing Harry would come home soon, that the next three months would fly by and he would be back and she would have someone to talk to again.

In May, Harry only sent ten letters, and in June, he didn't send any. Violet was disappointed, but at least he would be home soon.

She was allowed to go to the train station this time, if only because her aunt and uncle didn't want to leave her home alone. Who knew what she would do to the house while they were gone? They had become slightly afraid of her in the recent months, with the promise of Harry's return soon to be fulfilled, and had begun to almost walk on eggshells around her, not wanting to anger or upset her. They didn't need her to tell Harry that they had mistreated her in anyway. They left her alone, not even making her do any chores, and were planning on adding another room to the house. She would share with Harry for the time being.

Harry appeared on the platform with two other children his age. She assumed the red headed boy was Ron and the bushy haired girl was Hermione. She ran across the platform, nearly tackling him in a hug and squeezing him. He smiled and introduced her to his friends before Uncle Vernon called them. They turned to see him surrounded by a family of red heads, looking very uncomfortable and annoyed. Ron blushed slightly, shaking his head, and Violet guessed that was his family—the matching red hair confirmed it.

"They treated you all right, Vi?" Harry asked as they walked to their relatives.

She nodded, laughing. "They've been afraid of me for the last few months. Don't want me to tell on them to my big brother."

He laughed too. "They'll be afraid of you too, when you get your letter."

"D'you think I'll get one, Harry?" Her voice was tinged with worry. She had done nothing for the last year but hope that she would get her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

"Of course you will," he said, smiling down at her. He had grown a bit over the year, she noticed, and he wasn't as thin as he was before he left. His clothes actually fit.

They went home and she helped him unpack his clothes, barely finishing before Uncle Vernon was in the room and taking his trunk, still filled with his magical possessions, including his wand (an object that Violet had been eager to see) and locking it in the cupboard under the stairs. She had already moved her things into the bedroom she was to share with Harry; neither of their possessions took up much room, although Harry's stock was considerably larger than when he left.

He let her feed his owl, who was to share the room with them. She liked Hedwig; she seemed to be smarter than most animals, and she took a liking to Violet immediately, remembering her from all the times she had taken letters between the two siblings.

"You didn't write me this month," Violet said, still petting Hedwig. Though he had only been gone for two weeks of June, she thought he might have written because his May package came in the third week rather than the fourth.

"I'm sorry, Vi. There was a lot going on, with final exams and other things. I didn't have much time." He was laying on the bed, and he sounded sad. Violet supposed she would be sad too if she had spent a year away from the Dursleys and had to come back.

But his answer saddened her as well. He didn't have time for her, he had forgotten about her while in his last month of school. She had become the invisible girl to him, too, and she felt a crack form in their relationship. She understood that other things were important; she didn't expect to be the most important thing to him. But it still hurt. He was her brother, he wasn't supposed to forget about her.

And even though he told her about the events of his last month later in the summer, the crack never healed. It grew bigger and bigger as the summer went on and Harry became increasingly upset that his friends didn't write him. He and Violet didn't have as much in common anymore, having spent a year apart, and a wedge appeared in the crack, driving it further and further apart until they didn't have the same closeness they had before, and the Dursleys didn't have to work to keep them separated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! chapter two for you, hope you like it=)**

**anything you recognize I do not own, sadly.**

**enjoy.**

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><p>Despite the summer heat, Violet preferred the outdoors to the stuffy, over cleaned house she lived in. Particularly because she had to do the over cleaning herself. If she stayed outside and out of the way, there was less of a chance Aunt Petunia would put her to work. But there was more of a chance that Dudley would bother her.<p>

He had begun to suspect her game of moving his things around after she (rather stupidly, she admitted) tried to move his glass of orange juice at breakfast while he was staring at the television in the living room. As soon as she had touched the fingerprint covered cup, his head snapped towards her so fast she the cup nearly slipped from her grip. They stared at each other for several seconds, all of which Violet spent trying to come up with an escape route.

"I was moving it. It nearly tipped off the edge." She continued to stare at him, setting the cup more towards the center of the table, and prayed that he would buy her excuse.

He merely blinked, as if he didn't know what was going on (and Violet guessed that he probably didn't), and then moved the orange juice to the other side of his plate where he could see it even when staring at the television. He never directly said anything about his suspicions, but anytime she came into a room he was already in, he kept a wary eye on her and anything in the vicinity that he needed. She gave up the game soon after that, deciding not to push her luck. Even the most stupid of people only remained in the dark for so long.

As Harry's birthday came closer and closer, Violet tried harder and harder to think of something to get him and came up with nothing; buying a gift was quite difficult when one had no money and no means of getting any. She had resorted to asking Aunt Petunia if she could use the kitchen to bake Harry a cake, promising she would not make a mess and even volunteering herself for extra chores. Surprisingly, Aunt Petunia considered it, but quickly changed her mind when Violet informed her Harry's birthday was on the 31st because she would need the kitchen to prepare a dinner and desert for Uncle Vernon's guests.

She resorted to making him a card and promising that as soon as she got enough money she would buy him a present. He didn't seem too phased when she told him this, being used to not getting anything on his birthday and now, as he said, having to deal with it from his friends as well, who had not sent so much as a note since school let out. He wasn't much fun to hang out with anymore, now that he had real friends that ignored him, so she left him to sulk on the bench in the garden and wandered into the front yard where she sat in the center of the lawn, counting the bugs that crawled over her legs and the cars that drove by.

She wasn't allowed out there long before she was called back into the house to help Harry with the cleaning; apparently he had tried to set a hedge on fire and was being forced to work for his dinner as punishment, and now she was being punished for being outside where people could have seen her. She doubted anyone would have noticed her, but she cleaned without complaint as her stomach was growling and she did not want to go another night without dinner.

To her dismay, "dinner" was, once again, a slice of bread and cheese, and she barely finished it before she was dragged up the stairs and into her room by Harry, with Uncle Vernon issuing one last warning to stay quiet and pretend not to exist. She was quite good at both of those, although it did require her to squelch her troublemaking instincts for her own good as well as Harry's (she _had_ noticed the large pudding sitting atop the fridge that would be excellent to topple onto Dudley's large head).

She was just about to fall into her bed and work up some more plots that she would probably never be able to act out when she realized there was already something on it, bouncing up and down, emitting trills of glee every time it soared into the air.

She stared at it, its bat-like ears flapping with each jump and its large eyes looking down on her.

"Harry," she said quietly, holding in her yelp of surprise. "It seems we have a visitor."

Her brother turned, barely suppressing his own shocked sound, and said in a nervous tone, "Er—hello."

The thing bounded off the bed and directly to Harry, bowing before him. Violet was torn between feeling scared yet curious and rolling her eyes; of course, it was here for Harry. She flopped onto her bed and stared at the creature, her curiosity getting the better of her and blocking out all noise coming from its mouth as she studied it, until it began to cry. Loud wails that she didn't even think something that small could make filled the room and Harry shot her a look as he attempted to console the thing. Understanding, she slipped quietly out the door and down the hallway, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs.

Her uncle was talking, telling some joke he had read on the back of a crackerjack box. He appeared not to have heard a thing, and from her spot she couldn't hear any noise coming from their room, but she remained in her spy position, in case the thing decided to make more noise.

She crept quietly down the stairs, wanting to get a closer look at the dinner, stopping on the second to last step, from which she could just see into the dining room if she tried hard enough. She could smell the pork roast, practically taste it on her tongue, and she hoped that Aunt Petunia wouldn't be kind enough to send the leftovers with the Masons because Violet already had plans to sneak into the kitchen and nick some food while her relatives slept.

It was a good five minutes before anything disrupted the dinner; Violet heard it only seconds before it reached the dining room. A loud thumping, coming from an upstairs bedroom, filled her ears and the table fell silent. She quickly shot up the stairs as her uncle made some excuse about Dudley leaving the television on and into her room, shutting the door quietly, just in time to see Harry closing the closet door. She fell onto her bed, grabbing a book as she did, her brother doing the same. Mr. Dursley thundered up the stairs and wrenched the door open. She held her breath as he complained they had ruined the punch line of his Japanese golfer joke and reminded them to stay quiet or they wouldn't have dinner for a week. He stomped angrily out of the room and both Potter children let out a sigh of relief.

"It wasn't a very good joke anyway," she said, setting her book on her bedside table. "And next time you're pretending to read, at least hold the book the right way." She nodded at the upside down copy of _Sherlock Holmes_ in his hand and smirked.

He laughed hollowly and then jumped off the bed to open the closet door. The creature tumbled out and bowed before Harry again.

"See what it's like here? See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got—well, I _think_ I've got friends."

Violet stared at her brother for a moment, letting his statement sink in. She decided that it did hurt her that he didn't consider her a friend. They used to be friends, before he left for school, and now, apparently, they weren't.

Before she knew what had happened, Harry had dived at the creature—a house-elf, she had heard, though she had no idea what that was—and it took off out the door. They both chased after it, Violet reaching the stairs before Harry, being much smaller and quicker, though they were both fast. She bounded down the stairs as quietly as possible, Harry following closely behind. They ended up in the kitchen, and Violet watched with a mixture of satisfaction and horror as the extravagant pudding floated close to the ceiling.

"Dobby, please," Harry said softly, begging. "They'd kill me. Just put the pudding down…"

"Harry Potter must promise not to return to Hogwarts."

"Dobby, I can't…"

"It is dangerous, sir, you must promise. Promise…promise for her safety!" He squeaked, pointing at Violet, whose mouth fell open in shock. She had no idea what the elf was talking about. "If Harry Potter goes back to school, she will be in danger! She is too close to Harry Potter!"

Violet looked between her brother, who seemed to be fighting some sort of inner battle, and the elf, who looked pleased with his argument. She watched the pudding floating precariously over their heads, and wondered what exactly the elf was planning to do with it. She hoped it meant to dump it on Dudley's head.

Harry came to a decision. "I can't promise that. It's safe at school, Dumbledore is there, and she's going to get her letter, she'll be going to Hogwarts anyway."

Something twinged inside Violet, and she found herself slightly disappointed in her brother again. The elf had told him to choose between her safety and his friends, and he had chosen his friends. This disappointment, however, was small because he had also said the thing she most wanted to hear: she would be going to Hogwarts.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

The pudding fell to the floor, whipped cream flying and sugared violets splattering across the linoleum, and the elf disappeared with a crack. The siblings stared at each other as they heard the diners fall silent, the sound of chairs scraping signaling that not one but several people were coming.

"Go," she said quietly. "I'll take the blame. They're never as hard on me as they are you."

Harry shook his head. "No, it's my fault. That house-elf was here to see me. And they're afraid of me still, they won't punish me that much—"

"Don't be daft," she hissed at him, the sound of feet approaching the kitchen door hurrying her words. "They made you do a week's worth of chores in one day today just because you teased Dudley. You'll get much worse than that. Now go." She pushed him back into the hallway just as the kitchen door opened and her aunt and uncle stepped into view.

At the sight of their niece, covered in pudding, Aunt Petunia let out a shrill sound of shock and Uncle Vernon began apologizing profusely, his face and neck turning red.

"So sorry, our niece—she's rather odd—doesn't like meeting new people, so we kept her upstairs…"

Everyone had calmed down enough to return to their meal, with Violet being made to clean up the pudding and herself, when the owl came, landing with a shriek on top of Mrs. Mason's head. She let out a rather shrill scream herself and ran out the door, her husband yelling angrily at the Dursley's as he left; something about his wife being deathly afraid of birds of any kind (a very stupid thing to be afraid of, if you asked Violet).

Harry reentered the room, the arrival of the owl confirming that Harry was indeed involved in whatever had gone on that night. Uncle Vernon made him read the letter out loud, and Violet cringed internally the farther he got into the letter.

Apparently, Harry was not allowed to do magic outside of school, a fact he had kept very well hidden from his relatives. Now the secret that kept him safe and fed was exposed and neither of the Potter siblings had any hope that the next few weeks would be good ones.

The Dursleys not only locked the two children into their room, but fitted bars to the window and added a cat-flap to the door so they could simply push food through rather than taking the time to let them out. For three days they kept up this routine, letting Harry and Violet out one at a time and escorting them to the bathroom, and pushing a cold bowl of soup or a couple pieces of bread through the flap when they happened to remember that, as humans, the children needed to eat. It wouldn't do much for the Dursley reputation if they starved to death on the Dursleys watch.

In extreme cases, when they were really hungry and hadn't been fed in a while, or they really had to use the bathroom, Violet would sit in front of the door and look out the cat-flap for any sign of ankles walking by, and listening for the sound of her relatives' footsteps. When she was certain the coast was clear she would take out a hairpin that Aunt Petunia had given her when she used to enjoy dressing Violet up for school (Aunt Petunia had always wanted a daughter and had tried to substitute Violet as her own, but the girl wasn't one for messing with hair and bows and would come home with her shoes dirty and her dress torn, eventually causing her aunt to give up the fantasy). She stuck the end of the pin into the keyhole, wiggling it around a bit the way she had taught herself to do before she got moved to the cupboard and the pin trick didn't help her. She quietly stole downstairs and raided the fridge, taking just enough that it could be blamed on Dudley (and that was quite a bit) while Harry used the bathroom or vice versa. It made the three days in their room much more bearable.

On the third night, when Violet was ready to pick the lock and escape from the house forever just so that she would never have to be locked in a room again, a light began flashing into the room. Startled, she looked up to see Harry getting groggily out of bed and going to the window.

There was a car floating there.

A car.

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at it in disbelief. She recognized one of the three boys in the car as Ron and assumed the other two were his brothers. She remained silent as they tied a rope around the bars on the window and revved the engine, speeding away from the window and taking the bars with them. She winced at the noise and looked sharply to the door, but no sound came from the hallway. She breathed a sigh of relief. The car pulled back up to the window.

"Get in," said Ron from between his brothers.

"But I need all my stuff—"

"Where is it?" asked one of the brothers.

"In the cupboard under the stairs, but it's locked—"

"Easy enough," said the other brother, and the two climbed quickly out of the car and into the room. Violet now saw that they were twins, and must be Fred and George, from what Harry told her of the Weasley family. She wondered what it was like to be in a family of seven children.

They walked to the door and unlocked it using the very same hairpin method that Violet used.

"Some muggle tricks come in handy, even if they are a bit slow," said the one doing the unlocking.

Violet smirked at Harry and he tossed a pillow at her face.

"The last step squeaks," she whispered after them. They nodded and left the room, returning a few minutes later with all of Harry's school things. They tossed it into the car, Ron pulling it in from the other side. Harry had already collected his things from the room and passed them to the car, but so far Violet had not moved from her bed.

"Well, are you coming?" asked one of the twins and her eyes widened in shock.

"I can come?" she glanced at Harry. She had never done anything Wizarding before, and riding in a flying car would certainly count. She didn't know if he would want her to come; maybe he wanted to be alone with his friends.

"We can't just leave you with these awful muggles!" said the same twin, and the other pulled a suitcase out of her closet and began dumping the contents of her drawer inside. She ran about the room, grabbing various other things she might need and tossing them in the suitcase, and then the twin threw the piece of luggage into the back of the car.

The car was just beginning to pull away from the window when a loud screech filled the silence. Both Harry and Violet turned back to the window, Violet already climbing over the seat to get back inside the room.

"Hedwig!" They cried as a shout came from their uncle's room.

Violet jumped through the window at the same time her uncle burst through the door, the locks flying off and the door coming loose from its hinges. She quickly and carefully handed Hedwig's cage out to Harry. When she tried to get out of the window, her uncle grabbed her ankle, pulling her back down. On the other end, Harry and Ron had a hold on her arms, trying to pull her into the car; she thought her arms might come out of their sockets.

She kicked out hard, connecting with Vernon's shoulder and he let go. She was too small to do any real damage, but as she was lifted into the car she turned back to see him glaring at her through his beady eyes, rubbing his shoulder but refusing to make any more noise; he didn't need the neighbors to know about this.

The ride didn't seem to take that long. She mostly stared out the window while Harry explained about Dobby, taking in the world from an aerial view. She found she quite liked it up here; away from everyone and everything, it all seemed beautiful.

They touched down soon enough and the sight of the Weasley home caused her to gasp. It was rather tall and crooked, looking as if it was barely standing. But she liked it. It looked like an actual home that people lived in, instead of the house on Privet Drive that was so orderly and clean and _ordinary._

She saw the plump, motherly, angry woman heading for them before any of the boys had caught on. However, for once having knowledge of a situation before it happened was no help to her at all, because she had no idea what to do with an angry mother. Aunt Petunia had been angry before, but never _motherly_, and that was why she found herself hiding behind her brother as the furious woman bore down on them, the boys still oblivious except for Ron, who had turned a slightly greenish color.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

The boys cowered before her as she berated them for making her worry; they could have died or been injured, they should have left a note. She felt a twinge of sadness, not because they could have been killed but because she wanted someone to worry about her the way this woman worried about her children. But she had Harry and she worried about him and he worried about her too, didn't he?

It was only a few moments before she was led inside for breakfast. Mrs. Weasley put some eggs on her plate and buttered a piece of toast for her while saying things Violet didn't understand, like prefect and O.W.L.s. She ate quietly, only looking up when a girl about her age came running down the stairs, took one look at Harry, squeaked, and then ran back up the stairs. Violet stared after her, and then at her brother, and couldn't help but wonder if this reaction was a good thing or not.

Mrs. Weasley set the boys to work, though she offered to let Harry sleep but he declined, and Violet went off to explore, having gotten no mention of where she could sleep from the matronly woman. But she wasn't tired anyway, and she had seen a pond that looked interesting while they were still in the air.

She was still out by the pond when Mr. Weasley arrived at home. The boys went inside but she was engaged in a rather lengthy staring contest with a frog seated on a lily pad near the edge of the pond and wasn't quite ready to give up yet. She would win, she was sure of it, if only that frog would blink sometime soon, she would go inside…

Someone grabbed her around the waist and threw her over their shoulder, carrying her toward the house and holding her tightly as she squirmed in their arms. The only thing keeping her from kicking whoever her kidnapper happened to be was the red hair she could see out of the corner of her eye.

"Best get you inside or you'll be out here all night. You'll never beat that frog."

"I would have won, just five more seconds and I would have had him—"

"No one has ever won a staring contest to that frog. Not even me."

"And you think you're the best, do you?" She had no idea who was holding her but she wasn't about to lose this challenge as well.

She could almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, I do hold the Weasley family record."

"You haven't gone against me yet." She said defiantly.

The person laughed but before he could respond a voice yelled from the doorway they were headed toward. "Oy! Hurry up, Fred! Dad is telling more stories from his work!"

Fred quickened his pace and Violet bounced crossly along, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes glaring at his back. He set her down inside the threshold of the door and smiled at her before departing with a wink and a tousle of her hair.

She stared at him as he sat down beside his father, listening to his stories and making jokes. This one was a troublemaker, she knew, and his twin too. They had been able to pick a lock, and from the sound of it, it had been they who came up with the plan to rescue Harry.

They and Violet would get along just fine.

She spent the next couple of days mostly by herself, occasionally tagging along with the twins to see what they were up to, but there were too many explosions for her taste. Ginny seemed to have an extreme case of shyness (unusual for her, if you asked her brothers) and was hardly ever good for a real conversation. Violet suspected this had more to do with her brother than herself but left Ginny alone anyway. She stayed out of Mrs. Weasley's way, having had no good experiences when it came to bothering a woman who was busy cleaning; Mr. Weasley was away at work during the day and Percy never came out of his room; Harry and Ron were always together, and Violet felt as if she were intruding whenever she asked to go along with them. So she was content to sit by the pond every day, challenging the same frog to a staring contest as it croaked at her every once in a while.

Her Hogwarts letter came soon enough, and she was expecting it. The twins set off a couple of small fireworks and Harry smiled proudly down at her. Mrs. Weasley gave her some extra pieces of bacon with her breakfast and she was overwhelmingly happy but the day was overshadowed by their trip into Diagon Alley. Harry got lost and everyone worried over him, pulling her along in the search for him before she even got a chance to take in all the wonders that was the magical town of Diagon Alley. The first chance she got to even really stop and look at anything was in Fluorish and Blott's, and even then the amazement was short lived as everyone's attention was turned on her brother, who was embarrassedly shaking Gilderoy Lockhart's hand (whoever he was. She was pushed to the back of the crowd, clutching the cauldron she had had just enough time to pick up before finding herself back at the entrance. The crowd didn't seem to think that perhaps she would want to see her brother meeting another famous person.

"Stupid Potter. He can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

Violet whipped around, ready to defend her brother from the accuser, but Ginny spoke before she had a chance.

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Her face had turned nearly as red as her hair in anger.

The voice had a comeback, but it was lost as Violet saw a pale hand reaching into her cauldron and withdrawing a rather shabby looking transfiguration book. She frowned; all her books had been new, hadn't they?

"What do we have here—a Potter buying secondhand textbooks? What a shame. All that fame and no money to go with it."

Violet glared at the man before her. He had very long hair, longer than any Violet had seen before, and held a cane with a shiny, silver, snake ornament on the top. She assumed he must be very rich, and the ornate ring on his finger as well as the lavish robes he wore confirmed her theory.

"What do we have here—an old, gaudy walking stick? What a shame. All that money and no fashion sense."

The man sneered at her, but Mr. Weasley appeared, and he seemed to have an even bigger dislike of the fatherly man. Words were exchanged, ending in a brawl on the bookshop floor. The twins cheered their father on, while the man's son, the owner of the voice that had insulted her brother, tried to pry Mr. Weasley off his father. Violet tackled him to the ground, unwilling to let anyone interfere when it looked like Mr. Weasley had a chance to win.

She was once again picked up by Fred, who restrained her as she was still attempting to get a few good kicks at the blonde boy's pointed face.

"Come, Draco," the man said when the fight had been broken up, a cut swelling over his eye. He thrust the book back into Violet's cauldron. "We'll come back later. We don't need to associate with the type of rubbish that is here now."

They left and soon after Mrs. Weasley appeared, a questioning look on her face. They merely shrugged; what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"Ginny," said Violet, taking a look at the books in her cauldron. There was something off about her books; she _knew_ all of her books had been brand new, and she had been in a confused hurry when being pushed through the crowd. "I think I picked up your cauldron on accident…"

* * *

><p>"You want me to run…at the wall." Violet stared at the offending wall. It <em>looked<em> solid, all the bricks were in place. They couldn't possibly expect her to run through it.

But apparently, they could, because they all did it. She took a deep breath and ran after Ginny, closing her eyes tightly. When she didn't feel herself splatter against the wall, she opened her eyes to see a scarlet train, children and teenagers sticking their heads out the windows, saying goodbye to their parents. She didn't have much time to see anything else as she was herded onto the train, her trunk stowed and her new toad sticking his head out of her pocket. She didn't have any parents to wave goodbye to so she settled for waving to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, very good substitutes for the real thing.

She followed Ginny into a compartment. Over the month that Violet stayed at the Burrow, Ginny had become less shy around her, and had told her all about the magical things she knew, including a sport called quidditch that Violet was eager to try. The girls had become good enough friends for Violet to feel comfortable following her closely, as Harry seemed to have disappeared.

They shared a compartment with a mousy boy named Colin who had a camera that he overused. He repeatedly snapped pictures of her, and kept asking where Harry was and if he could meet him, and did he really have a scar? Violet wished she knew a silencing spell. A rather small, blonde girl with large blue eyes sat in the corner, reading a magazine. She was quiet, but spoke at the most random times of the most random things like nargles and wrackspurts. Colin seemed to think she was weird, but Violet liked the oddity that was Luna Lovegood.

When the food cart came around, Violet jumped up. She was starving and now that she had pockets full of gold, she was determined to buy as many Mars Bars as she possibly could. But she found none and instead settled for the Cauldron Cakes and Every Flavor Beans Harry had told her were so good. She stayed far away from the Chocolate Frogs, however, as she thought of the toad squirming around in her pocket.

She still didn't see Harry when they got off the train. She didn't see him when she was being led to the boats. She didn't see him when she was taken into the castle or when she was led through the Great Hall (as the stern-looking woman with square glasses told her it was called) even though she searched each table while the hat sang a song.

She wasn't all that surprised by the hat's ability to speak. Harry had mentioned it in one of his letters, and after a month at the Weasley home where a mirror repeatedly told her to brush her hair, she had come to expect objects that should not be able to talk to have the ability to do so.

What did surprise her, however, was that the hat saw into her mind. It was very unnerving, having something on your head that could see into yours when it shouldn't have been able to do _anything_. Although she nearly ran up the stairs to be sorted, she was that excited, now that she had put the hat on she really wanted to take it off.

"Another Potter, I see, but quite different from your brother." The voice said in her mind. She folded her hands in her lap, sat up straight, and stayed very still. She was glad the brim of the hat fell over her eyes; no one could see her fear.

"A trickster, very clever. But also brave and ready to defend. Very witty and sharp, sly even, but also a kind heart. Where to put you, where to put you?"

She had a sudden fear that she would not be put anywhere at all.

She thought hard about her brother, trying to remember what house he was in. But did she really want to be put in the same house? Did she want to follow her brother forever, when he had already begun to forget about her? Did she want to be known, when people actually recognized her, as Harry Potter's little sister forever? Or did she want to step out from behind him and forge a new path? Make a name for herself?

The hat saw her conflict. "Gryffindor suits you well, as does Slytherin. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would be good houses for you, should I choose to put you there."

The battle raged on inside Violet's mind. Several minutes had already passed and the hall had grown quieter as they watched her sorting.

"Hmmm…very indecisive, I see. I had better make the choice for you, then."

The hat was silent for a moment, contemplating its choice. It was never wrong, she had heard, and so she attempted to quell the contest in her head and listened for his answer.

"Better be…"

She tensed, the world falling away as she waited for the hat to decide her future.

Her only thought was that she hoped Harry was here to see her fate decided.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

><p><strong>Did anyone guess her house?<strong>

**anyway, not all the chapters will go into detail of specific events in the books as much as this one did, but there are certain events I wanted to write her in, so I did. I'll try and update every week, whenever I can.**

**please review, it helps me, it really does!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Updated rather soon, earlier than I expected, but I wrote and thought you might as well have it!**

**I still own nothing.**

**i hope you enjoy=D**

* * *

><p>Violet had been in a headmaster's office many times before. Just in her last year of muggle school (she enjoyed being able to call it that, her constant reminder that she <em>was<em> special) she had been in the office more times than she could count. But then she had always known why she was there. She had always done _something_ to get her there—whether it was fighting, making a snarky comeback to a teacher who she disliked, or refusing to leave the library and go to class. She was absolutely certain that she had done nothing wrong now. She had been very quiet since she had arrived at Hogwarts.

There was another, much larger difference between her visit to the muggle school headmaster and to the headmaster of Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore's office was much, much more interesting. There were too many odd baubles and ornaments for her to take in, a large red and gold bird sitting on a perch behind the desk that stared at her, and a bowl of some sort of candy that attacked her hand when she reached for one, causing her to accidentally knock the glass bowl to the floor, shattering it. Quickly, she dropped to her knees and began carefully picking up the glass, unsure of what she was to do with it. Then it hit her.

She was a witch.

She could use magic.

She pulled her wand out and, holding it very tightly in her left hand, pointed it at the broken bowl. She closed her eyes, concentrating, and tried to remember the words she had read in one of her various text books.

"_Reparo._" She said firmly, opening her eyes to see the bowl reforming, all signs of the breakage disappearing. Smiling satisfactorily to herself she put the bowl back onto the table, although she had no idea where the candy had gone.

"Very good, Miss Potter," a kind voice said from behind the desk.

Violet looked up to see the very same man from her first Chocolate Frog Card looking down at her and smiling kindly. She smiled sheepishly back, slightly embarrassed that he had seen the whole thing, but since she had fixed it, she wasn't too upset.

"Please, sit down." He motioned toward the empty chair across from him and she sat down, her feet swinging several inches above the ground. She had never spoken to him before, but she decided she liked him. He had a twinkle in his blue eyes that made him seem mischievous, and she always had a soft spot for those who liked to cause trouble. He was also rather odd, another quality she quite liked, being considered odd by everyone for most of her life.

"I trust you have had a good beginning of term."

She nodded. Her first term had gotten off to a good start, although there were some things that hadn't been so great, like the cat being petrified and the day she had been late to potions.

She had known she was going to be late. She had taken a detour after breakfast, following Peeves the Poltergeist as he pelted people with water balloons and committed other acts of mischief. When she had remembered to glance at her watch, she had three minutes to get to class and was on the third floor. She took off at a sprint, down the stairs, trying to avoid the moving cases, and into the freezing dungeons, already planning on pleading confusion and getting lost in the huge castle. She burst through the doors of the potions classroom ten seconds after the bell rang. Apparently, the professor wasted no time; the lesson had already begun.

She stood at the back of the classroom, breathing a bit heavier than normal, but she wasn't in too bad of shape; she had a lot of practice when it came to running. She glanced hurriedly around the room, trying to find an empty place, but the feel of a glare on her caused her to look toward the front of the room.

The professor stared at her, and when she finally met his gaze, she thought she saw surprise flash across his face; his eyes went wide and his mouth opened slightly. But less than a second later his even stare was back in place, and his lips curled slightly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Potter." He said before turning sharply back to the board and continuing writing whatever she had interrupted.

She sat down on the empty stool beside Colin, the only empty space there was, and looked down in shame. It was only the second day of classes and she had already lost her house points.

Near the end of the lesson, when the students were supposed to be classifying the different types of ingredients on the board by the type of potion they were most commonly used in, she felt someone staring at her. She looked up and once again met Professor Snape's eyes. He was staring at her not with the sneering expression he had earlier but with a much softer expression. Again it passed so quickly she thought she had imagined it, for he had returned to looking at her disdainfully. She was saved from being the first to look away when the bell rang, distracting them both as she began to pack her bag and he called out their homework assignment.

Yes, the potions master was definitely strange.

"Until today, of course." Dumbledore interrupted her reverie.

"Until today." She agreed. Today had not been a good day at all. Her brother had nearly been killed by a bludger and then the ever so self-confident Lockhart had lost him all the bones in his arm.

This definitely made the top of her worst day ever list, just under the time when she was seven and Aunt Petunia had entered her in a beauty pageant; it wasn't a day she liked to remember.

She had been in to see Harry in the Hospital Wing but he had been asleep. She had sat by him a while, holding his hand and talking to him softly about her first few months at school, though she knew he couldn't hear her. But it was one of the few times she could pretend he was listening and get away with it; it was much more difficult when he was talking to Ron and Hermione.

He had become a bit more distant with her since the cat had been petrified. He didn't ask her how her classes were or about her teachers or if she needed help with her homework like he had before the accident. He spent most of his time with Ron and Hermione, whispering about one thing or another. She overheard him complaining about hearing voices that no one else seemed to be able to hear. She had tried to ask him about it but he shook his head, saying it was nothing.

She felt as if she was being shunted to the side, but she wasn't sure by what. She and Harry hadn't been as close as they had previously been before they came to Hogwarts, but then he had spent most of his time holed up in his room or on the bench in the garden, depressed, missing his school and friends. Her eleven year old mind had thought, rather eagerly, that now she was at Hogwarts too, they would go back to their friendship; they had more in common again, they shared Hogwarts. But apparently that wasn't how it worked. She didn't quite understand, except that whatever it was that the Golden Trio, as she heard a second year Slytherin call them rather scathingly, whispered about was taking priority over everything.

"Well, rest assured Miss Potter, Madam Pomfrey will have him healthy again soon." Dumbledore smiled again, the twinkle never leaving his eyes.

"Thank you, sir."

She stood up to leave but his voice stopped her.

"I hope that you have made a few friends by now, Miss Potter."

"I have, sir." She didn't know what he was getting at, but it was true. She had made a few friends already, but the sad truth was that not many people spoke to her. She had a feeling they were intimidated by her brother's fame; whenever people saw her coming, they would look away, whispering behind their hands. She often caught pieces, as most people didn't really know how to whisper.

"—that's _Harry Potter's_ sister—"

"—another Potter, who knew? I thought there was only Harry—"

She carried on past them as if she didn't know they were talking about her, or that they were even there, and maybe _that_ was why she had so few friends but it had never bothered her before and she wasn't about to let it bother her now.

Except that it did. She wasn't supposed to be the weird one here. She was supposed to fit in; everyone was like her at Hogwarts. They liked Harry well enough—he was their hero, after all. She was simply the other Potter, evidently the secret one that no one knew about because she hadn't been the end of a mass murderer. Even in the Wizarding World she didn't fit in, because most people hadn't realized she even existed until she showed up at Hogwarts. She wasn't the right Potter.

Eventually though, the whispers died down and no one, of her own age or older, even looked at her in the hallways.

Except for Colin, who was always repeatedly clicking his camera in her face, the bulb flashing so brightly she had to blink. After Harry had sent him away one day, threatening to cast a leg-locking jinx on him if he kept following Harry around, he had appeared next to her at the Gryffindor table, finger clicking away.

"Colin," she had said through her teeth. "Stop. It."

"Do you think if I developed the pictures of Harry you could get him to sign them for me, Violet? I already have a few ready—they're in my bag—" he began to dig furiously through his school bag, turning up all sorts of things from quills to an odd tin man figurine.

"No."

His hand froze and he looked up at her; she almost felt sorry for him, his face was so crestfallen. But then she remembered what he had asked and turned back to her plate, stabbing her egg with her fork with just a bit more force than was necessary.

He was silent for a moment, a rare occasion for Colin, who was always babbling incessantly about one thing or another, usually Harry. It was a long, uncomfortable silence, in which Violet continued to ignore the probable puppy dog look on his face and Colin stared at the back of her head, slowly putting his things away.

"Okay." He said after a while, still standing awkwardly behind her. She felt bad for denying him so bluntly, but she wouldn't ask Harry for an autograph, and the sooner he understood, the better. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure," she said, moving over to make room for him. She once again stuck her fork into her eggs with vehemence, prompting him to laugh.

"Have you got something against your eggs?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and saw that he no longer looked upset.

"I'm just pretending they're Lockhart's hair. It could do with a bit of fork work."

"Are you sure a fork would be enough? He uses a _lot _of hair gel; I'm surprised his hair isn't crispy."

She laughed and he laughed and he didn't ask her another question about Harry's life (although he still asked about the autograph, but less frequently) and only took pictures of her when the moment really merited it, like if something particularly funny had happened and he wanted to capture it so he could tell his dad about it later and she stopped finding him so annoying and didn't have to take her irritation out on her breakfast.

"Might I inquire as to whom?" Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, the tips of his fingers pressed together under his chin.

"Well, there's Colin Creevey, and…" she thought for a moment. There were other people she talked to, of course, when they didn't turn away, but she wasn't exactly sure they were of friendship status. "Fred and George, too."

The twins liked to include Violet when they were planning pranks, though they kept her away from the actual enactment of them (for her own safety, of course). She watched them curiously, adding in her own tidbits about planning alibis and getaways, performing the practical joke in a way that no one would suspect it was them (the best defense, in Violet's experience, is to not need one). She learned from them too; better ways to prank people, jokes that were larger and more attention garnering. She needed to add to her repertoire. After all, she would only be in her fourth year when they graduated; she would have three whole years of being the resident prankster to herself. It was a win-win situation for all.

"Ah. A few good laughs are always good," said Dumbledore, eyes even brighter, if that was possible, "as long as one knows where to draw the line."

She smiled impishly at him. "Of course, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Any other friends, Miss Potter, or should I be worried about the amount of time you spend with the Weasley twins?"

"Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley, sir."

They were sort of a package deal; not many other people wanted to be friends with Luna. But Ginny liked her well enough, and they lived near each other so they had known each other for a long time, and Ginny often asked her to join them. Luna always consented, not out of need (Violet could see she was content with being alone) but simply because she liked having friends.

Violet had stuck with Ginny since she had arrived at school, but even Ginny had begun to act weird. It wasn't an entirely comfortably relationship to begin with, though they got along well enough. With Ginny's large and very obvious crush on Harry, the conversation often turned to him, and Violet didn't particularly like just handing out information on him, so she steered the conversation to something else Ginny could go on and on about, like quidditch, but despite her talent for being tactful, there was still a slight stiffness and tension when she redirected Ginny.

And when Ginny would talk about her family, she found herself growing jealous. Ginny had a great family, a large family that cared about each other. It was something she had wanted for a while now, and something she would never have.

It was a doomed friendship from the start.

Then Ginny had begun to act strange, ever since Mrs. Norris had been petrified. She had seemed overly distraught about the incident, bursting into tears in her brother's arms. She had become distracted, zoning out in conversations and rushing off to do her homework, of which she had seemed to gain a sizeable amount, though the other first years spent a significantly less amount of time studying. She carried her diary with her everywhere, and Violet found her more than once writing in it late at night, long after everyone had gone to sleep in their dorm. She had quickly closed it, saying it was just last minute homework she had remembered, and closed the curtain around her bed.

"Good, good. Friendship is very important, Violet, very important." Dumbledore smiled at her, standing up and extending a hand in her direction. She reached out to shake it. "You may leave now. I wish you a good rest of the school year."

She turned to leave just as the office door burst open. A frenzied Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, breathing heavily.

"Headmaster, there's been another accident. A student has been petrified!"

Dumbledore was around the desk and heading for the other professor in a matter of seconds, and McGonagall turned and began walking down the steps, Dumbledore following swiftly and Violet following far enough away not to be noticed but still close enough to hear.

"A student, Professor? Who is it?"

"Colin Creevey, sir."

The headmaster quickened his pace, but Violet stopped cold, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Colin had been petrified; her first real friend at Hogwarts had been turned into a human statue.

She took off running, right between the two professors and down the hallway, heading for the Hospital Wing. She pushed open the door and ran to the first occupied bed she saw. Colin was lying there, his camera held up to his face, his mouth open in surprise. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes and fought to keep them away. Crying wouldn't fix anything; it never did.

"Violet."

She spun around to find Harry watching her from his bed, his arm bandaged and his face tired.

"He's going to be okay. Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey will fix him."

She sniffed quietly, turning back to her friend just as Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore came through the doors. She stayed silent as they discussed the boy before them, watched as they took the roll of film from his camera and it went up in smoke, barely felt Harry's hand in hers, pulling her away from the bed and back to his because he was her brother and even if he had a lot going on, he would find time when she needed it. For now.

She stayed with him, staring quietly in the direction of Colin but not really seeing anything. She thought to herself that she was overreacting because Colin was going to be okay—he wasn't _dead_—but she couldn't help it.

Eventually Madam Pomfrey ushered her out of the Hospital Wing and she returned to the Gryffindor Tower, climbed slowly up the steps to her dorm, and after changing into her pajamas, fell onto her bed. She could hear Ginny crying on the bed next to hers, but Violet had never been comfortable around tears, and so she stayed where she was, unable to do anything to console Ginny or herself.

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><p>The tiny wooden seeker on a broom chased the even smaller wooden snitch in circles around Violet's hand. She watched it for a while, and then put Harry's birthday present back in the box and closed the lid. It had been months since his birthday, but in all the excitement surrounding their Diagon Alley trip and Harry's flying car entrance to Hogwarts, and now the accidents, it had completely slipped her mind to give it to him. Better late than never. She placed the box carefully in her book bag and slipped out of the dorm, heading for the Great Hall.<p>

She found him sitting with Hermione and Ron, talking in hushed tones. Everyone seemed to be staring at him, and, as she heard, with good cause. Apparently he had tried to set a snake on another student. Violet didn't believe this of course. She had known right away that he had most likely been telling the snake to leave the boy alone. But then again, she didn't know that being able to speak to snakes was a bad thing; it was still a talent she greatly wanted.

She approached them swiftly, the gift practically burning a hole in her bag.

"Harry?"

Hermione practically jumped out of her skin. She shoved the book she had been reading out of view, evidently hoping to hide it from Violet.

"Harry, I have something for you—"

"Now isn't a good time, Vi."

"Oh" was all she said, disappointed.

"We're studying. Important Transfiguration test today," said Hermione brightly. Ron, stuffing his mouth with a large bite of pancakes, nodded his agreement.

Violet raised her eyebrows. "Is that why you just put _Most Potente Potions _away? You were studying the wrong subject?"

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened. "Um, yes!" she said hastily, pulling out her actual Transfiguration book. "Potions won't help at all on a Transfiguration test, will they?"

"No," said Violet coolly, "it won't."

"Give it to me later, Vi?" Harry looked at her over his shoulder.

"Sure." She turned away, heading back for the common room to put the box back in her trunk and making a mental note to tell Hermione sometime that she was a terrible liar.

But later never came because soon after the breakfast incident, Justin Finch-Fletchley was petrified and everyone blamed Harry, and by association, Violet, so instead of being completely ignored people went back to whispering about her as she walked by and she found herself missing the days of anonymity.

She focused more on school in those few weeks before Christmas, quickly reaching the top of her class in Potions, despite Professor Snape's hatred of Gryffindors and keenness to ensure they didn't score higher than his precious Slytherins (though this didn't stop Hermione from surpassing them, either, and Violet could always respect someone who defied injustice in such a way). On the other hand, she saw Defense Against the Dark Arts as a complete waste of time; it was obvious to her that Lockhart was all show, his class more of an extended story time than a class at all. Often she found herself drifting off while he told another tale about banishing a banshee and once she fell out of her chair, having been dozing with her face in her hand and her elbow near the edge of the desk. She had saved herself by saying she was so entranced in his story that she was leaning forward to hear it better. She escaped detention and the loss of house points, but was unfortunately moved to a seat in the front of the room.

When Christmas came around she decided to give Harry's birthday present as his Christmas gift; he hugged her and thanked her, a pile of gifts twice as large as hers at the foot of his bed. She had only received a tissue from the Dursleys, a package of brightly colored quills from Harry, and a mysterious box from Fred and George with a card that read "ONLY USE IN EMERGENCIES."

It was as if everything was the same again and she and Harry were still close and they had never drifted apart. She even spent the day with the other Weasleys, watching them battle over games of Wizarding Chess and Exploding Snap, her toad Bartholomew sitting in her lap. They went to the feast together; the castle looked beautiful when it was decorated for Christmas, Violet noted with amazement. They really went all out at Hogwarts.

But when dinner was over, the trio disappeared, forcing Violet to return to Gryffindor Tower alone; fortunately for her, she had spent a lot of time alone over the past year and a half, and she had grown accustomed to it. When the trio returned, Hermione had the face of a cat, and a rather long tail.

Things started to look up around Valentine's Day. Ginny was much less strange and agitated. She could hold a conversation without rushing off and she even talked to Violet consistently; about classes or quidditch or the amount of food Ron consumed on a daily basis. When Valentine's Day did come, Violet laughed along with everyone else at the surly looking dwarves that carried Valentine messages, although tactfully holding in her laughter when one sang to Harry in the corridor outside Lockhart's classroom. She earned her first detention of second term when Malfoy had made fun of Ginny's Valentine to Harry and Violet (who had been waiting for an excuse to challenge him all year) had tackled him, sitting on his chest and attempting to make him eat one of the many Valentine's Day cards he had gotten from Pansy Parkinson. Violet had a friend in Ginny, at least for a while; she soon returned to her nervous self, bursting into tears when there were any mentions of the Chamber of Secrets within earshot of her.

Violet was unsure of how to feel about the Chamber. She didn't like it, of course; whatever was coming from it was petrifying students, one of which had been her friend. But she wasn't exactly scared. She wasn't a Muggleborn, and she didn't have any friends to worry about. It was just sort of something that lurked in the background, something she was unconsciously aware of but didn't give much actual attention to.

And then Hermione was petrified and although Violet didn't know her very well, she was one of Harry's best friends and suddenly it did matter to her, because she realized that every one of the petrified students meant something to _someone_, even if that someone wasn't her. She tried to talk to Harry; she knew that he was trying to solve the problem, he _always_ tried, but that without Hermione to point them in the right direction he would have a much harder time. She could fill in for the intelligent girl, temporarily. She didn't have the same sort of smarts as Hermione—she couldn't memorize textbooks and spout the information out like a fountain, but she was very good at reading between the lines and seeing more than what was actually there, and perhaps she could be of help.

But he wouldn't have it, and told her not to worry about the Chamber because everything was going to be solved.

What neither of them planned on was Ginny being taken into the Chamber.

What she _did_ plan on was him and Ron going into the Chamber after her. And she would have headed them off, tried to stop them, and when that proved impossible (they were too stubborn and too determined) she would ask to join them. And she wouldn't take no for an answer and she would venture into wherever the Chamber took them and face whatever evil was wreaking havoc on the school.

Except she didn't know where the entrance to the Chamber was.

So she sat in the common room with Fred, George, and Percy, who was writing a letter to his parents to explain about Ginny. She sat between the twins on the sofa, cracking jokes and making up stories to make them laugh. They smiled at her and took turns cooperating in her jokes, answering when she asked them the opening line and laughing at the appropriate volume based on how funny the punch line was. Fred threw an arm around her and pulled her into a hug and for a moment she felt as if she were a part of a real, complete family.

So perhaps she should have been thankful that she had no idea where the Chamber was. She could have _died_ down there never having felt the comfort of being in a family, even if it was only fleeting.

When Harry returned from the headmaster's office, dirty and scratched, tired from having fought a basilisk, the others in Professor McGonagall's office with Ginny, she crossed her arms and stared at him.

"Next time you decide to go do something dangerous, could you at least tell me? Even if I already suspect you are going to do it, it would be nice to hear it confirmed."

He stared back, his vision blurred by the smudges on his glasses. "Sure thing, Vi."

She took the moment to hug him because she knew that when they woke up the next morning and the news had spread that he and Ron had saved Ginny while simultaneously getting rid of Lockhart, he would be an even bigger hero, and she would have to make room for herself in his shadow.

And sure enough, when Harry walked through the doors of the Great Hall at breakfast the entire Gryffindor table, plus most of the Ravenclaw and a few Hufflepuffs broke into applause, showering him with praise and clapping him on the back. Harry smiled embarrassedly, putting his head down and finding a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Oliver Wood.

Violet could see that Ron wasn't getting quite the same attention, though he had been to the Chamber too; few people clapped him on the back, and almost all of the catcalls were for Harry. He hadn't been the one to kill the basilisk or save Ginny, but Violet thought his accomplishment was worth almost as much. She had been hoping for someone to send Lockhart on his way for a while now.

A light flashed brightly in Violet's face, startling her, and causing her to drop her fork and nearly tip over her goblet of pumpkin juice. She looked up to see Colin standing next to the table, camera in hand and a grin on his face.

"Good morning!" he said brightly, pointing his camera at her again and clicking several times in succession.

She pushed his camera down. "Nice to see you again. It's been rather…less bright without you around." She stared pointedly at the item in his hands.

He laughed and sat next to her, piling a plate full of eggs and pancakes. They chattered away, she telling him what he had missed and he telling her what it was like to be petrified (it really wasn't like anything, he said, just a really long nap with no dreams) and asking if now he could get Harry's autograph, since he had _consciously_ saved the school this time instead of by means that were out of his control.

The train ride home was much more comfortable than the ride in. She and Colin were actual friends now, Gryffindor had won the House Cup, and the basilisk had been slain. There were plenty of reasons to be happy, even though she was returning to life at Privet Drive. But Colin promised to call her and invite her over, if the Dursley's would let her go, and so she returned to the muggle world much happier than she had ever been in it before.

She could only hope that Harry wouldn't be as distant as last summer; Dobby wouldn't be stopping his letters, and they had much more to talk about now that she had been to Hogwarts too. It was a naïve hope though, and, as she had said about Dudley, she could only stay in the dark for so long.

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><p><strong>so..I had some mixed feelings about this chapter. I really liked it, but at the same time I kind of didnt, but I really did.<strong>

***insert ***

**anyway, I think it sets me up well for what is to come!**

**speaking of that, the updates may be a little farther apart that originally planned because I've decided not to procrastinate so much on my schoolwork anymore. And I got my Pottermore email! So I'm attempting to balance all three things!**

**please review, I enjoy hearing your thoughts!**


	4. Chapter 4

**sorry for the long wait! **

**chapter 4 for you all!**

**also, edited and reuploaded because i forgot to put in the breaks when I uploaded the first time.**

**I still own nothing D=**

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><p>She wasn't there when Harry blew up Aunt Marge.<p>

She was across the street at Mrs. Figg's house, sitting on the front porch, petting a Siamese cat named Ella and eating chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone. She was quite content to be banished from the Dursley home when Aunt Marge was there. The woman hated her more than she hated Harry; Violet had an even harder time controlling her tongue around Aunt Marge than Harry did his temper.

"_Like I've always said, 'If there's something wrong with the mother, then there's something wrong with the pup.'"_

"_Is that why you never had any children?"_

She had been banned from Aunt Marge's visits when she was ten and had never regretted it. Mrs. Figg let her do whatever she wanted once Violet had already been through every photo album she had of her cats, and so Violet spent most of her time outside, where the air was fresh and didn't smell like cabbage and cats.

When she heard the screaming she had looked bemusedly up, watching the large balloon woman float away. She saw Harry storm outside, both their trunks in tow, and she went inside to say goodbye to Mrs. Figg. When she came back there was a large, purple, triple decker bus onto which Harry was being helped by a young man with very bad acne.

"And who're you?" he asked when Violet climbed onto the bus, procuring her a ticket and punching a hole in it.

"Violet—"

"Longbottom. Violet Longbottom."

She looked at Harry questioningly. He gave a slight shrug and a look that said he would tell her later.

The man looked between her and Harry, gesturing back and forth with his whole punch. "Any relation?"

Violet stared at the man and wondered if he was kidding.

"She's my sister." Harry flopped onto one of the beds. He didn't look angry anymore but there was an exasperated, tired edge to his voice that made Violet reach out her hand and offer him some of her ice cream. He took it without question and she fell onto another bed, watching him eat.

Chocolate ice cream was always a good solution.

Their summer had been no better than the last one. Harry had promised Uncle Vernon he would not use Hedwig to send letters in exchange for allowing her out at night, which made for a much more peaceful sleep than when she was hooting in her cage all the time. Ron had tried to use the telephone, which Violet had found both funny and sad; hearing the boy yell into the phone was quite amusing, but it had also gotten Harry into trouble. So he had no contact with his friends until his birthday and was consequently rather depressed, and a depressed Harry did not make for good conversation. She managed though, asking him about quidditch or talking about what it was like to be a second year; she could even get him to retell his story of what he did in the Chamber, if she asked at the right time. And in return he asked about her first year and how she liked school. The conversations were always short though, and she only told him the good things that happened because she feared mentioning her loneliness would make their conversations even shorter and far between.

"I hate that woman." Harry said between licks of ice cream.

"What did she do this time?"

"She was insulting mum and dad."

Violet felt anger stir inside of her. She didn't know much about her parents but she knew that they had died protecting Harry from Voldemort. They were better people than that horrible woman could ever hope to be, than any of the Dursleys could hope to be. She had no right to insult them.

"Good thing you blew her up then, eh? I might have done something worse if I were there. Like turn her into one of her blasted dogs."

He chuckled shortly and she smiled, glad that she could still make him laugh when he was upset.

"I didn't do it on purpose. I just lost control."

"Uh-huh. A likely story."

He laughed again and then gave her the ice cream cone, having eaten all the actual ice cream. She bit into the waffle cone, her favorite part, and he lay back down, closing his eyes. The bed swayed a little with the movement of the bus.

"Are you going to sleep?" she asked, looking at him. She didn't feel at all tired and didn't want to have only the bus conductor to talk with. He didn't answer her though because at that exact moment the driver slammed on the brakes and they both went tumbling to the floor. The bus grew slimmer and taller and so did she as the bus made its way between two double decker buses.

She soon realized that there would be no sleeping on this bus, and had never been more grateful for anything in her life than she was when she finally got off the bus and her feet touched solid ground.

A short man in a pinstriped suit appeared next to her, and Harry walked right into him. Violet saw him gulp when he saw the man and she looked curiously between the two, wondering who he was.

"Hello, Minister!" The conductor, who she had learned was named Stan Shunpike, called down to the man.

Her eyes widened as realization hit her. Harry, who had just blown up his aunt, had walked straight into the Minister for Magic.

He was led away by the portly little man and Violet was led into the Leaky Cauldron by the innkeeper, Tom, and taken to room ten. She wasn't feeling well at all, and though she tried to stay awake until Harry came back, she fell asleep quickly, still wearing her clothes.

The amount of freedom she had over the next few weeks was amazing to her. She could wander through Diagon Alley as she pleased, going into any shop she chose. She sometimes went with Harry (who hadn't gotten into any trouble at all) but he usually got up too late for her, and spent most of his time at the quidditch store. She preferred Flourish and Blott's herself, but when she was with Harry, Florean Fortescue gave them free ice cream. She had to remind herself often that Harry still had five years left of school and she had six, and she couldn't spend all her money on books unless she wanted to ask the Dursleys to buy their supplies.

She did see Colin when he came to do his shopping, and she spent the day with him and his parents, who bought her a book about the founder of her house, Godric Gryffindor, for her birthday, which had passed a few days before. She was sad when he had to leave, but she was comforted by the fact that there were only a few more weeks until they went back to school.

She received a package from Fred and George that had several magical novelty toys, such as self-shuffling cards, and Harry bought her a large basket of assorted candy that would take her months to go through. Surprisingly, she had even received a gift from Ginny: a miniature model Egyptian pyramid, complete with tiny tourists taking pictures around it.

She enjoyed reading the Daily Prophet while she was there, mostly for the moving pictures, but occasionally she got an interesting bit of news. Like the article she read about the recent Azkaban escapee Sirius Black.

"Did he really kill thirteen people with one spell?" She asked one of the witches sitting at the bar down in the Leaky Cauldron. She pointed at the picture of the former prisoner, who was lunging at them, unable to move from his frame.

"He sure did. In the middle of the day too." The woman turned back to her breakfast, not wanting to answer any more questions. Violet accepted her dismissal and hopped down from her stool to find someone more friendly to satisfy her curiosity.

But no one seemed to want to talk about it and the thought was pushed from her mind on the last day of the summer holiday when the Weasley's arrived, full of stories about their trip to Egypt. The twins captured her between them in a hug, already talking about all the good times they had in the desert area.

The next day they left for Hogwarts and she found Colin on the train, having already given up on sitting with Harry (she had heard him mention needing to tell Ron and Hermione something when they got on the Hogwarts Express, and knew she would be sent away anyway). She was happy to have someone to talk to again that was always cheerful. Violet had no idea what an upset Colin might be like. She didn't even know if it was possible—he was just the kind of person who saw the bright side of everything.

"—and when my parents saw the pictures, they couldn't believe they moved! The first time they found one of the frames empty, they thought they had lost their minds!"

The train had begun to slow down and Violet looked out the window to see if the castle was in sight, but she didn't see it anywhere. Colin continued chattering.

"They have to put the pictures away when we have company, of course, but they are out the rest of the time. My little brother, Dennis, loves watching them!"

The train had come to a complete stop. Something didn't feel right to Violet, and she looked back out the window to search for the castle again, but she couldn't see anything. The window had frosted over, and then she noticed that it had gone very cold in the compartment; she suddenly wanted to find Harry and make sure he was all right. She threw open the compartment doors and ran through the corridors, Colin following as quickly as he could, until she ran into something horrid.

A large black hooded creature was floating towards the open door of a compartment. She heard yells from inside; she instinctively wanted to help but had no idea what to do. She didn't even know what the creature was, how could she hope to stop it? She stood rooted to the spot, thinking of anything she could do that wouldn't just make it worse; because adding another body to whatever mess this creature was going to create certainly wouldn't do anything to _improve_ the situation. But nothing came to mind and she had to do something, anything, her feet were moving slowly, the creature was through the door now—

"Harry!"

She took off running again at the sound of Hermione's voice. Running blindly in had to be better than doing nothing, she reasoned, but as she barged into the compartment she realized what a mistake it had been. Her whole body went cold and it felt as if she was being drained of every happy feeling. Her vision was overtaken by darkness, she couldn't breathe very well—every time she inhaled she felt a sharp stab from the cold air that encompassed her and filled her body, chilling her to the bone. And then the screams began, quietly at first and then growing louder and louder until she could hardly stand it any longer.

Violet clamped her hands over her ears but it didn't help; the screams were coming from _inside_ of her. They went on and on before there was a flash of green through the blackness and everything went silent. Violet fell to her knees, still covering her ears because the silence was too great and maybe if she pressed hard enough she would hear that ringing noise and it would be _something_ that she could focus on instead of the nothing that was filling her. There was another light, blue this time, and she was dragged to her feet by someone she couldn't see and placed carefully on the seat. The smell of chocolate hit her and a piece of it was put into her hand.

"Eat this, you'll feel better."

She took a bite of the chocolate and felt a bit of warmth return to her. She glanced next to her to see Harry sitting there, eating his own bar of chocolate and looking just as wearied as she felt. Ron and Hermione were watching him carefully and looking at him almost as if they were afraid he was going to collapse again, even though he was sitting down. She wondered what had happened exactly, and still had no idea what the creature that had come in was. She could hear Hermione telling of something silvery shooting out of someone's wand and chasing the creature away, but Violet couldn't make sense of any of it.

"We should be moving again soon."

A tall, thin man stood in the doorway. He wore a rather shabby set of robes that were slightly frayed in spots and his hair was just a bit too long, and it looked somewhat messy, as if he had just woken up. He had a large scar across one cheek that she avoided staring at by becoming very interested in her chocolate bar. She didn't know this man yet but she already liked him; he seemed very kind and a bit fatherly, and she assumed he had been the one to send the creature on its way, though she wasn't sure. But he had given her chocolate, and that was always a way to get on Violet's good side.

He sat down next to Violet and smiled at her gently. "Are you all right, Violet?"

She nodded.

"And you, Harry?"

"I'm fine, I just…I heard someone scream. Who was it?"

The others in the compartment looked at each other, confused.

"No one screamed, Harry." Hermione finally said after a moment of silence that had lasted a little bit too long.

Violet frowned. She had heard the screaming, too. She had covered her ears, but it wouldn't go away. Surely somebody had been screaming.

"I heard it, too. It was a woman's voice." She looked to Harry and he nodded, an anxious look on his face. "None of you heard it?" she asked the rest of them. They all shook their heads.

She frowned. How had no one else heard it?

But she left it at that as the conversation turned to Sirius Black. Evidently the dementors had been looking for him on the train, an idea that Violet found slightly preposterous. If she had been in prison for twelve years, she would not be hiding on a train full of students. She would have a much more efficient, much less obvious way to get back to Hogwarts, if that was even where she wanted to go. The man had eleven years to plan it out; surely he could have done better than stowing himself on the Hogwarts Express.

She and Colin shared the compartment with the others for the rest of the trip, Violet not quite ready to leave yet. She sat in silence though, thinking about how the creature had affected her and Harry. She felt somewhat embarrassed; no one else had fainted or heard things that weren't there. She felt vulnerable and exposed to those things, the dementors, and she didn't like it. It was a weakness that could affect her greatly should she ever encounter another one.

She sincerely hoped she would never see a dementor again. But it couldn't hurt to ask the man to teach her how to send one away, just in case.

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><p>The second year Gryffindors third class of the term was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin and Violet was rather excited for it. The morning had brought them a Transfiguration lecture and an hour of Snape glaring angrily at them and finding any reason to take points from Gryffindor (he only managed to lose them ten points this lesson, when Colin's cauldron had started to smoke slightly and Snape walked by before Violet had a chance to help him). She was hoping that Professor Lupin's class would be much more interesting, and that he didn't just fill the time with improbable stories of how he defeated a banshee while coming up with formulas for the perfect line of hair care products that would also cure Spattergroit.<p>

She walked with Colin, Ginny, and Luna towards the Defense classroom after she had stuffed herself at lunch, once again getting accustomed to having as much food as she wanted. She had greatly missed Hogwarts; it was a thousand times better than being stuck with the Dursleys. But, glad as she was to be back, it was still summer, and she was still twelve, and she wanted to be outside in the fresh air and grass, not cooped up inside the castle. The sky outside was so blue and the occasional scatter of clouds were big and puffy. She found herself staring out the high windows as she climbed the stairs, imagining what it would be like to fly and feel the warm breeze in her hair. It had to be a nice feeling.

She had never really flown before. All the first years were required to take flying lessons, taught by Madam Hooch, but due to the unfortunate events of last year, the lessons had been canceled after the first few. The professors didn't want to risk endangering the students once the attacks had started, and decided to keep them off the open grounds. Even the Care of Magical Creatures class had to be taught inside (and after the incident with the rogue Crup that had escaped and somehow evaded both professors and students for two and a half weeks, it was no wonder Professor Kettleburn had retired).

By the time the lessons were cancelled, between the inevitable mishaps and injuries, they had barely gotten off the ground.

And she didn't just want to fly, she wanted to play quidditch. She wanted to be up in the air, soaring above the crowd and hearing them cheer her on as she played. She just needed someone to teach her.

She had considered asking Harry but had eventually found a few problems with that idea. For one, when she had the idea, they were still on Privet Drive, where his broom was locked up and, even if his Nimbus 2000 had been accessible, they were surrounded by muggles. Now they were at Hogwarts, and she had come to realize that this was Ron and Hermione time for Harry; he would not come away from them easily and she didn't like the idea of possibly being rejected (it was only an insecurity—Harry was her brother, he would have helped her—but insecurities can be consuming and she wouldn't face another rebuff if she didn't have to).

The next problem hadn't presented itself until the Sorting Feast, and Dumbledore had informed them that dementors would be surrounding the school. Given the effect the creatures had on the Potter siblings, Violet decided that being near them while up in the air was not a good plan, and she was quite certain that Harry would not want her flying with the dementors around, as he still had his protective moments. But she really wanted to learn, and when she did, she would be able to join in on the Quidditch discussions with Harry and his friends.

She sighed, giving up her thoughts of flying for the moment, and refocusing on her current trip to the Defense classroom. They had just climbed the last set of stairs and only had to walk down a short corridor to reach the door. She would have to think of someone later.

The halls were still swarming with students, many of whom were running to get to their next class as the bell would be ringing in a few minutes. Being very small, she had a difficult time pushing past the older students to actually make her way from the top of the stairs and into the corridor.

"Violet, watch out!" Colin pulled on her arm but it was too late; someone very large collided with her and she was knocked backwards. Unfortunately, the stairs were still behind her and she rolled down them, her head hitting the landing at the bottom with a sickening smack, and everything went black.

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><p>The lights in the Hospital Wing were much too bright for her. She had to force her eyes to stay open, ignoring the pain that the brightness sent through her head. She reached up and tenderly touched the side of her head where she hit the floor; it was bandaged now, and the slight touch increased the pain. Her entire body was sore and much, much too warm for her liking, but she couldn't bring herself to move the blankets off.<p>

Madam Pomfrey walked past her bed, muttering under her breath about "flesh wounds" and looking rather annoyed. There must be someone else in the Hospital Wing, but Violet wasn't quite ready to look and see who it was. From the cries of pain she could hear, it didn't sound as if whoever it was intended to leave any time soon.

But as soon as Madam Pomfrey shut the door to her office, the cries stopped and there was a rustling noise that told her the person was moving, followed some time later by the hurried scratching of a quill. She glanced in the direction of the noise, barely turning her head, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him or her, but she was sunk too low into her fluffy pillows to see anything other than the top half of a large camera sitting on her bedside table. She reached out an arm and grabbed the object, setting it on her lap and taking off the note folded on top.

_Madam Pomfrey said you might be in here for a while. I thought maybe this would help with the boredom! _

—_Colin_

She wasn't sure what Colin expected her to do with the camera. There was really nothing of interest in the hospital, and she hated taking pictures of herself. Maybe the other patient would subject to having their picture taken.

She sat up slowly, her back protesting slightly and her head aching even more. She looked in the direction of the noises again and was surprised to find Draco Malfoy sitting four beds away from her, upright and writing a letter, despite the bandages on his right arm, and the fact that the appendage was in a sling.

There was no way he would let her take a picture of him and there was no way she would ever ask.

She slumped back into her pillows, the camera sitting heavily on her knees. She wondered how long she would be in here; she didn't do well with doing nothing_._

Well, there was always still-life photography.

The scratching of the quill was starting to get annoying. Did he have to write so loud? Her head was pounding, but she sat up anyway, ready to tell him to save his letter for later if he liked being able to use a quill, when she realized that he _shouldn't_ be using one.

His right arm was bandaged, and if his cries were anything to go by, should have been hurting. Obviously, he was not in as much pain as he wanted everyone to believe.

Ordinarily, Violet would have let this go; he was Draco Malfoy and her head hurt too much to deal with him and his entitled snobbishness. But today happened to be an unordinary day, and Violet thought of a much better plan.

She quietly threw the blankets off of her body and stepped out of bed, moving slow so the bed wouldn't creak and her head wouldn't spin. He was too engrossed in his letter to notice her movements as she grabbed the camera and dropped quickly and carefully to the floor, crawling silently on one hand and her knees, the other hand holding the camera up. She arrived at the bed beside his and lifted her arm up, pointing the lens at him and clicking three times in succession, the familiar flash lighting up her surroundings and a loud cry of "What in the—HEY!" filled the room.

She quickly got to her feet and, ignoring her sore body, jumped over the bed behind her to increase the distance between her and the Slytherin. She assumed he was glaring at her, but she felt very lightheaded and everything had gone a bit fuzzy, so she looked in his general direction and smirked.

"Give me that camera." His voice was edged with steel and in her woozy state she found it amusing. She knew from the various times that her uncle's voice had taken that tone that it meant he was extremely angry but still trying to control himself.

"I don't think I will," she managed to say clearly. She hoped that Colin or the twins or Harry or _someone_ would come in soon and she could pass the camera over to them so that she could sleep off her headache. Although, catching the look in his eyes now that the world had become completely distinct again, she probably wouldn't be doing much sleeping until one of them left. He might strangle her.

"Give. Me. The. Camera."

"No."

She barely had time to move before he was up on one bed and launching himself over the next. She quickly scrambled to her own bed and jumped on top, holding the camera as far away as she could reach. He was on the floor in front of her own bed now, and she was prepared to jump from bed to bed to keep away from him if she had to.

Or at least she would be, if she had not been knocked down a flight of stairs. The pounding in her head made her swear that as soon as she was out of here, she would learn a couple jinxes and then teach whoever it was that had run into her some hallway etiquette.

Hopefully, Madam Pomfrey would emerge sometime within the next few minutes (preferably, seconds).

"I'm not asking."

"I'm not giving."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

He opened his mouth to retort but his words were lost. Her brain had gone fuzzy again with the effort of staying out of his reach, and her ears began to fill with a loud buzzing noise. She couldn't keep this up, she was falling, knocking over a vase on the table as she fell, the glass shattering against the ground, and she landed directly in his arms.

If she had been able to see clearly, she would have seen the look of surprise that flashed across his face and the slight fear at suddenly being responsible for her, even if it was for only a moment.

"What on earth is going on out here?" Madam Pomfrey burst out of her office and upon seeing the situation, bustled quickly over, ordering Malfoy to place Violet back on the bed and sending him back to his own.

Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted as she covered Violet back up and set various potions on a tray in front of the girl. Violet swallowed them down, coughing when she drank one that actually tasted like cough medicine. She felt better almost instantly, her vision clearing up and the pain in her head and body receding.

"What would my life be like without a Potter constantly in here?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she checked Violet's bandage.

Violet smiled up at her. "We try to keep it interesting."

The nurse laughed and, upon deeming the bandage as still in place, said, "Only a few more days, Miss Potter, if you keep taking your potions. Perhaps even tomorrow, if you get enough rest. And watch out for Mr. Flint, will you? I don't need you falling down another flight of stairs."

So it was Flint's fault she was in here. He probably didn't even know who she was, or cared that he could have killed her.

Stupid, slimy git.

"And you," the motherly woman turned to the Slytherin, who was now lying in bed and clutching his arm as if it might fall off. "I suppose your arm is well enough, seeing as you were able to hold her."

"Actually, Madam, I think it might have made it worse." The edge in his voice was gone, replaced by a tone that almost made Violet feel bad for him, except that she knew he was faking. She could practically feel the charm rolling off of him, and it made her sick.

The nurse hurried over to him and inspected his arm, all the while he whimpered slightly and made all the noises of someone in pain. She hated to admit it, but he was good.

She refused to mentally take notes on his acting.

_Refused._

"Now, I've given you both sleeping potions so that you will rest. You should be asleep in about ten minutes, and if I find either of you out of bed again when you wake, I will not hesitate to bind you to them." Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at them meaningfully before leaving the room, her office doors swing shut behind her.

Violet glanced at the camera, which Madam Pomfrey had set back on the bedside table, and groaned inwardly. She couldn't fall asleep before Malfoy did.

"That picture isn't going to get you anything, Potter." He drawled quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard by Madam Pomfrey.

"You'd be surprised, Malfoy."

"The oaf is still going to be fired. His huge bird attacked me, for Merlin's sake. Just because I'm not injured anymore doesn't mean I wasn't injured in the first place."

Violet had no idea what he was talking about; she didn't know why he was in the Hospital Wing or how long he had been there, just that he was lying about the extent of his injuries. But she knew he was deceiving more than one person, and that she had caught him in the lie.

"How would Pansy feel if she knew you were lying to her?"

She honestly didn't know if he was lying to Pansy, but it seemed the type of thing he might do, pretending to be hurt in order to manipulate her, and Pansy didn't seem the type of girl to take that sort of thing.

"I haven't lied to her." He said, his face stony.

"Not yet." She decided it wasn't just the type of thing he _might_ do, it was what he _planned_ to do.

"What do you want for it?" He asked harshly, his gray eyes boring into her.

She smiled at him. The time to make her demand had finally come.

"I want you to teach me to play quidditch."

He stared at her, his face still blank, but she saw him clench his jaw.

"You want me. To teach you. How to play. Quidditch."

"Yes."

He still stared at her, and she was sure that if he was anyone else his eyes would have held a questioning look, but his face was still a smooth mask.

"Why me? Why not your brother? He is the star of the Gryffindor team, isn't he?" His voice held a derisive tone.

"I—that wouldn't work out." She was mentally cursing herself for not having an answer prepared for this question. Of course he would ask her why Harry couldn't just teach her; they were siblings, after all.

His expression slowly changed as realization dawned on him. "He wouldn't do it, would he?" He smirked at her. "He's too afraid you'll both faint at the sight of dementors if they came onto the pitch."

She breathed a sigh of relief. He hit on one of the reasons, of course, but not the one she cared about.

"It doesn't matter why. I just need you to teach me how to play quidditch."

"And if I don't?"

She waved the camera.

He was silent for a while, mulling it over. She had a rough idea of what was going through his head; be caught in a lie and face the wrath of Pansy, as well as the other Slytherins that he would manipulate into doing things for him (because Violet wouldn't show the picture immediately—she was smart enough to know to wait until he had actually done something wrong to bring out her piece of evidence against him); give up the charade right now and be sent back to classes and have nothing to flaunt over the Gryffindors when it came time for potions (because he would—_she_ would, if the roles were reversed), but not have anything for Violet to hold over his head; or teach her how to play quidditch and in the meantime have his fun.

Violet could feel herself starting to fall asleep, but she forced herself not to give in. Colin would visit soon, and she could give him the camera, and then she could sleep. Malfoy just had to agree.

"Fine."

Her eyes shot open—she was unaware, really, that they had ever closed—and she looked at him, his pale features smooth and unruffled.

"What?" She wasn't sure he heard him right; did he really agree?

"I said fine, Potter. But there are a few conditions."

She stared at him, curious as to where this would go. "What are they?"

"You do everything I say, no questions asked."

She thought about this for a moment. She didn't like the notion of allowing Malfoy to order her around, but if she wanted to learn, she would have to let him.

"Agreed."

"When it's over, you give me the picture."

"Of course."

"And no one knows about this."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. That was the point of all this."

He looked away from her and they lapsed into another silence as they thought about what had transpired. Violet had just blackmailed a boy she disliked, who her brother hated, and who hated her and her brother, into doing something for her. She wasn't even sure why she had thought of this in the first place, of using him in this way, but he wasn't likely to inform Harry of any of this, like Ron and the twins probably would. And she didn't want Harry to know yet, not until she was able to play, because then they would be able to practice together and it would be too late for him to be angry with her for going near dementors and not telling him about it.

He probably wouldn't notice that she was getting lessons anyway, even if she glued a schedule to his forehead.

But Malfoy had agreed, even though he was bigger than her and older than her and could have easily overpowered her (outsmarting someone was always fun, but brains couldn't always beat brawn). She owed him a thank you, at least.

But before the words could leave her lips, the huge doors to the Hospital Wing swung open and a flurry of black hair rushed into the room and over to the blonde boy.

"Oh, Draco! Are you okay? I was so worried—I brought you're wand, you dropped it when that awful creature attacked you—"

Violet was distracted from Pansy's fretting over Malfoy by the small mousy boy that appeared next to her bed. But she really couldn't stay awake much longer; her eyelids were growing heavy and she could barely keep them open.

"Hey, Violet! Are you feeling better? I was kind of scared when you fell—I tried to warn you but—"

"Hey, Colin," she cut him off. "Do me a favor and take the camera back up to the tower, will you? I've gotten enough pictures…"

She yawned, and she thought she saw Colin nod and open his mouth to speak again, but she fell asleep before he could.

When she woke up, the camera was gone, and Malfoy was still sound asleep.

* * *

><p>She ran down the corridors, her wand held tightly in her hand. The castle was colder than normal, and darker; all the lanterns had been extinguished. She pointed her wand at them as she ran, watching as they momentarily lit, and having no idea how she was doing that, before they went out again.<p>

They were following her, a whole swarm of them. They had gotten inside the castle. She didn't know how but it didn't matter. They were after her and she had to get away, she had to go somewhere.

She stopped in front of a door and wrenched it open but there was nothing on the other side, just another wall. She turned and ran again, her chest hurting with the effort. She hadn't run this much in a long time and her breathing was becoming too shallow, she couldn't hold out much longer.

They were getting closer.

She turned sharply to the left and took the staircase to the floor below, running as fast as she could, but getting nowhere. She kept finding herself on the same floor, with them still flying down the corridor towards her. Desperate, she tried the door again.

There was another corridor behind it this time. She hurried through, slamming the door behind her and sprinting down the dark hallway, still trying to light the lamps. She saw a figure appear in front of her but she couldn't stop, she was moving too fast, and she ran straight into them, what little breath she had being knocked out of her.

She held her wand up, the tip glowing, and found Harry standing before her. Relieved, she stood up and put her hands on her head, taking deep breaths as he stared at her.

"Harry, you're here," she panted, looking up at him. "We have to get out of here. The—they're in the castle, they're after me, we have to _go_!"

But Harry didn't say anything, and as she watched him, waiting for a response, he began to transform, turning into one of them. Frantic, she turned on her heel and ran back the way she came. There had to be another door, a window, anything. She couldn't be trapped.

But she was.

The dementors swarmed her and the little heat she had obtained from running left her body. The screams she heard on the train returned and her vision went black. She collapsed onto her knees, clutching her ears because those screams could _not_ be coming from inside of her.

Something connected with her face and she sat up quickly, her heart racing. A few lamps were lit and she could see that there were no dementors anywhere, just an annoying boy laying a few beds away from her.

She was shaking and sweating; her sheets had tangled around her legs, her blanket had fallen off the bed completely, and there was a pillow that was not her own sitting on her chest.

"You're having another nightmare, Potter. If you wake me up with your screaming again, I'm going to have to put a silencing charm on you."

"You can always leave," she snapped at him angrily. She wasn't in the mood for him; she had woken every night for the past three nights from the same dream and every time, he had decided to make some comment about it. "I can't."

"But it's so much more relaxing here. When you're not screaming, anyway. Or talking. Or doing anything to remind me of your existence."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Very witty, Potter. You wound me."

"_Good night_, Malfoy."

"Sweet dreams, Potter. _OW!_"

She smiled to herself as she saw the pillow he had thrown at her hit him in the face. He deserved it.

She rolled over, facing away from him, and pulled the blanket back onto the bed. She threw it over herself and pulled it up to her chin, trying not to think about her nightmare. She had hated those blasted dementors, but she didn't think she was so afraid of them. And why was Harry there?

She let a decent amount of time pass before she looked over her shoulder. Malfoy seemed to be sleeping, but she wasn't sure; she had always fallen asleep before him and she didn't _think _he snored, but she couldn't remember. Either way, it didn't matter, she couldn't hold it in much longer.

She settled into her pillow, curled up into a ball, and cried.

* * *

><p><strong>welp. I hope Draco was written okay.<strong>

**also, in case you were wondering,according to Harry Potter Wiki:**

**_"A Crup is a wizard-bred dog that strongly resembles a Jack Russell Terrier, except that a Crup has a forked tail. They are wizard-bred dogs, since they are extremely loyal to wizards and ferocious toward Muggles. They will eat almost anything." _**

**Review if you'd like ( _I_ would like it=D)**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **I AM SO SORRY. I know it's been forever. I haven't forgotten, I swear, I've just had a lot to do. I've been doing college applications and homework like crazy!

Anyway, I own nothing, still.

* * *

><p>Professor Lupin's class was by far the most interesting class Violet had this year. Between all the creatures and practical lessons, it was the class she looked forward to the most. She thought this was the better way to teach, rather than subjecting them to lectures and forcing them to take notes. She remembered more this way, and was actually excited to attend Defense classes this year (no more speeches on the Witch Weekly worthy achievements of Lockhart).<p>

She did occasionally have to take notes, though, as Lupin couldn't provide a creature for every single lesson, and it was as she was taking notes one day that she saw her book bag emitting small plumes of smoke. Startled, she leaned down to investigate, prodding her bag with her toe.

"Is everything okay, Violet?" Professor Lupin looked up from the papers he was grading, a small smile on his face.

"I'm not sure," she said, but she was pretty sure that there was something wrong. She tried to think of what could possibly be in her bag that would be doing this, but there shouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary: quills, parchment, homework, books, and—

Oh.

The perils of being friends with the Weasley twins had finally struck her.

"This," Fred had said that morning at breakfast, holding up a small black object that looked rather like one of those bells on the front desk of hotels, "is a Decoy Detonator."

"Just drop it, and it will run off and cause a distraction," George had continued, sitting down next to her and piling bacon on his plate, and adding a few pieces to hers for good measure (he always commented that "those horrible muggles never feed you enough!" in a way that sounded so much like his mother that she simply accepted the food for fear of him force feeding her).

"The perfect tool for any prankster in need of a getaway," Fred finished, sitting on her other side and reaching his hand over, taking one of the pieces of bacon George had just put on her plate. George shot him a look but Fred just grinned at him and took a bite.

"It's been nearly a month, Georgie. I think she's well fed by now."

Violet quickly picked up a piece of sausage with her fork and took a large bite. George smiled satisfactorily and went back to work filling both his plate and hers, which was now piled high with pancakes, eggs, fruit, and yogurt.

"Anyway, we expect that sometime within the next few weeks, you'll get into some sort of trouble, and need to make a quick getaway. So we want you to test it out for us," Fred said, putting the box in her bag.

"What exactly do you two think I'll be doing?" she had asked warily, looking between the two older boys. She had no intention of being used in one of their pranks without knowing it.

"Oh, we don't know," said George, finally giving Violet's plate a rest and starting to eat his own food. "But we're sure you'll think of something."

"And if not, then you can always use it to scare someone witless." Fred winked at her and began to fill a plate for himself.

That must be what was smoking now, she guessed, but she had no idea what to do with it. It would take too long to find the twins; by that time, it might have blown up already. Professor Lupin came out from behind his desk, walking cautiously to where Violet sat. He pointed his wand at her bag, lifting it up slowly, and held it in the air before him just as there was a loud crack and a huge puff of smoke.

The students around the professor—Violet, Colin, Ginny, and a few Hufflepuffs—coughed and waved the air in front of them to clear the smoke, and couldn't contain their laughter when Lupin emerged from the dark cloud, covered in soot. He chuckled as well, a smile breaking out across his face. He set Violet's bag on her desk and began to siphon the dirt off of it and himself. The bell rang and the class was dismissed, except for Violet, who waited for Professor Lupin to tell her the punishment for disrupting his class.

"That didn't smell like a dungbomb," he said as the other students filed out and she remained behind, still seated. He was still smiling, seemingly unperturbed by the accident.

"It wasn't, sir." She thought maybe detention wouldn't be so bad; he did have some creatures in his office still that would be interesting to see.

"Let me guess, a Weasley product." He looked down at her knowingly and she nodded sheepishly.

"I was supposed to test it out, sir. But it seems to have gone off without my using it."

"Still in the experimenting stages, I see." Using his wand, he extracted the black object from between her books. It looked oddly deflated.

"I suppose so." She really wanted him to just assign the detention already. "It's supposed to provide a diversion for the user, so he or she can get away easier."

To her surprise, the professor laughed again and sent the object over to his desk. He then repaired her bag with a simple flick of his wand and she poked it, making sure it was really fixed.

"That's something your father would have loved to have," he said, more to himself than to Violet. Immediately he looked down at her, as if he revealed something he shouldn't have, and she stared questioningly back, her insides tightening at his statement.

"You knew my parents." Of course he did. He looked about the age they would have been, or at least the age she imagined they would have been by now. She wasn't entirely sure how old they had been.

"Your parents and I were friends, yes." His smile had turned sad, and she could tell he didn't particularly want to talk about it.

This didn't make her feel any better. It made her curious but it also upset her; it reminded her of what she didn't have, what she would never have. But, as it often did with Violet, curiosity won out.

"What were they like?" She didn't know much about her parents at all, and now she was presented with someone who had known them growing up. She had questions, so many questions that she was practically bursting on the inside, and she hoped he would answer them, because he was the only connection she had.

He sat down on the desk in front of her, and she could tell he was thinking. His expression was still somber, but there was a hint of a smile, and she thought he must have been remembering something good that had happened when he was younger.

"Your father was quite the troublemaker, until he met your mother and she straightened him out a bit. He liked to have fun, James, but he managed to be a good student at the same time."

Her heart felt really heavy; actually, her whole body felt heavy, as if the one organ was weighing her down and she couldn't move, could hardly breathe, and Lupin must have realized this (he lost them too). He continued as if he didn't notice because he knew she wanted to hear, even if it hurt.

"And Lily was the sweetest person I've ever met. She could be really fiery though, if you crossed her. Most people didn't." He managed a laugh, a faraway look in his eye. "She was one of the best friends I ever had; they both were."

Violet had known her parents were good people. She had been told enough times by Harry and Dumbledore and even Hagrid once, when she had run into him in the halls last year. But they had never really been people to her; they had been heroes, laying down their lives and fighting for what was right. Now they were friends, a prankster and a kind heart with a fierce spirit.

For the first time, they were really real to her.

"Violet, I think you had better go to lunch now. Don't want all the good food to be gone, do you?" Lupin was already retreating to his desk.

She stood up to leave, feeling a mixture of emotions. She finally knew what her parents were like, at least a little bit. But now she had more reason to miss them, to wonder what it would be like if they were still around. It would be just another thing to occupy her dreams, instead of constantly being haunted by the dementors.

The dementors. Another thing Professor Lupin could help with.

"Sir, I was just wondering…how did you get rid of the dementor on the train?"

He looked up, a slight frown on his face. Evidently he had thought she already left. "There are certain defenses one can use."

"They affect me worse than others, and Harry, too."

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, Violet," he said sharply, and she assumed he knew where she was going with this. "They affect you two more than others because of the terrible events that haunt your past. You have experienced true horrors, while others have not."

"Have I really?" she asked. "Voldemort tried to kill Harry, not me. It was Harry who saved the stone and Harry who went into the Chamber of Secrets."

"And where do you think you were when he tried to kill Harry?" Lupin snapped, and Violet didn't know whether he was angry with her or simply trying to refute her argument in a way that she wouldn't argue back. "You were lying in your parents' bed. You saw the whole thing, even if you don't remember it."

"I hear screaming," she said, her voice quavering slightly. Even when the dementors aren't near her, they suck the happiness out of her. "And it's like I know who it is; she sounds familiar but the words aren't clear and I can't place the voice. I have nightmares, sir. Every night, and I can hear her, and it's so terrible…" She hadn't told anyone about the nightmares yet, but Lupin was easy to talk to, to tell these sort of things to, even if he had only been her teacher for a month.

"Violet," he started but now that she had started she couldn't stop.

"I need you to teach me sir…I can't be defenseless again. I don't want to hear it anymore, I—"

"All right," he interrupted, and she stopped rambling to look at him hopefully. "I'll find some way…I'll let you know when we can start. But for now, go down to lunch. From what I've seen, the Weasley twins won't be happy if I keep you from a meal." He smiled down at her and Violet was so happy she could have hugged him. She managed to restrain herself, though, and picked up her bag and ran from the room, wiping the tears from her eyes. Professor Lupin watched her leave with a sad sort of smile on his face, tossing the flattened Decoy Detonator up and down in his hand, and thinking how much she reminded him of both of her parents.

* * *

><p>Violet almost missed being in the Hospital Wing with Malfoy. He at least said something to her when she woke up screaming, even if he was making fun of her, and it temporarily distracted her from the terrors of her sleep. She could focus on fighting with him or ignoring him and didn't have to think about the nightmares until she was asleep again.<p>

_Almost _missed it, but not quite.

The other girls in her dorm didn't do anything. They felt bad for her. They gave her looks of pity when she woke up and woke them up. Sometimes they would say things like "Nothing's happening, Violet," or "It's all right, go back to sleep," but never moved from their beds (not after the first few nights) and never said anything that took her mind off what had happened in the dream.

Ginny had her own nightmares to deal with, Violet knew. She had heard her, after Ginny had gone back to sleep after Violet accidentally woke them all one night and Violet was still awake. Shifting in her bed, muttering to herself about Tom Riddle and Harry and Ron. But she didn't wake up—never woke up—screaming the way Violet did or ended up on the floor with the blankets twisted around her.

Violet had taken to keeping a stash of chocolate in her drawer for when she woke up. Even though the dementors in her dreams weren't real, they _felt_ real. She always felt cold after, despite being very sweaty, and sapped of all happiness. She hated that feeling more than she hated the actual creatures, and though the chocolate helped considerably, it could only do so much, and she always remembered how she had felt when she had woken up.

There was one night, the night before her first flying lesson with Malfoy, where she had a particularly bad dream, and had thrashed around in her bed more violently than usual, falling out of the bed and getting caught in the curtains surrounding her four-poster, tearing them. She screamed louder than any other night, and woke up already crying.

It was the same dream as usual, with a few added elements. Professor Lupin was there, telling her to defend herself, to attack back, even when she protested that she didn't know _how_, he hadn't taught her yet. There were more people she knew there, too. Colin, Ginny and Luna, Fred and George, even Ron and Hermione, all of who turned into dementors the way Harry did when she ran into them, and joined the chase. But that wasn't the worst part, the part that had woken her so brutally and in tears.

Dementor Harry had performed the Kiss on her.

She woke everyone else, too. They all climbed blearily out of bed to check on her because this seemed worse than normal, asking if she was all right and what happened. She told them she was fine and after a few weak attempts at tired investigation, which Violet easily deflected, they returned to their beds, except for Ginny. She stood next to Violet, who had gotten back into her own bed, and looked at her sadly. Violet looked away, wishing the girl would leave so that she could fix her curtains and draw them around her and maybe do some homework or something, because she wouldn't be going back to sleep.

"It's all right, you know," Ginny said after a while. "To have bad dreams. Everyone has them. Even Harry, I bet."

Violet didn't say anything. She knew Harry had nightmares—she shared a room with him—but they weren't like this, they weren't every night. She shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through her hair and fidgeting in other ways until Ginny finally climbed back into her own bed.

"Good night, Violet."

There was a pause.

"Good night."

While Ginny pulled the curtains around her four-poster, Violet climbed slowly and quietly out of bed. She threw on her robe and pulled on a pair of slippers and snuck quietly out of the dormitory and down the stairs. She quickly scanned the common room for anyone else who, like her, couldn't sleep, and upon finding no one, silently ran to the portrait hole. She could hear the Fat Lady snoring as she walked away from the painting. She didn't know where she was going but it didn't really matter.

She was in Hogwarts, after all. The chances for adventures and discoveries were endless.

* * *

><p>"Potter, you look terrible."<p>

Violet glared at Malfoy, standing before her in the center of the quidditch pitch, the cape of his practice robes flowing behind him in the breeze.

"It's six in the morning, Malfoy. Excuse me if I didn't dress up for the occasion."

"Tsk, tsk. Haven't even begun the lessons yet, and you already have an attitude. I think that merits twenty laps around the pitch." The blond smirked down at her, crossing his arms across his chest.

She answered his look with an even more condescending expression. She spoke slowly, as if to a young child. "To do that, Malfoy, I need to know how to fly. So maybe you could begin teaching me something, instead of insulting me. Unless, of course, you _want_ to spend more time out here with me."

Malfoy's smirk turned into a scowl, and Violet smiled happily back.

Although she did have to agree with him; she did look terrible. There were dark circles under her eyes, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair, which she had been too tired to brush, was hastily thrown into a ponytail. She looked like she had simply rolled out of bed and come to the pitch, despite the fact that she had never been in bed. She had, however, come across a room she had never seen before, with a nice comfy armchair in the center amidst shelves of books (not the books like the ones at Hogwarts but the kind she would have found at her old muggle school—filled with muggle adventures and muggle problems and things that were a far cry from being as terrible as dementors). After reading several of the books, she fell asleep, a pile of books surrounding her. She had woken up with just enough time to run up to her dorm, hurriedly get ready, and run back down to the quidditch pitch with five minutes to spare.

"Let's get started."

Half an hour later and she was zooming around the pitch, over the stands and between the goal posts. She enjoyed it more than she thought she would; the wind in her hair, the exhilarating feeling of being so high in the air, she loved it.

Malfoy would never admit it to her of his own free will, but she was a natural. It almost looked as if she had been flying for ages, with the exceptions of a few sloppy turns. These lessons wouldn't take long at all, and soon he could return to only associating with her when he wanted to insult her.

He raised his hand, signaling for her to return to the ground. She flew quickly, landing lightly on her feet a few steps away from him. He tossed a quaffle at her, which she dropped her broom to catch. She glared at him, opening her mouth to fire off an angry remark, but he cut her off.

"Your brother is the Seeker," he drawled, walking towards Violet. "I don't foresee him being taken off the team anytime soon, unfortunately-" Her eyes were daggers at this point but she held her tongue, realizing that she couldn't argue with him if she wanted his help. "The Weasley twins are Beaters, meaning that the positions they will most likely be searching for backups for are Chaser and Keeper. Wood will be the first to graduate from Hogwarts, and he'll want to train you."

"So how do I train now?"

"You let me repeatedly throw a quaffle at you until you learn to catch it wherever it goes."

"What?" she snapped, crossing her arms.

He smirked. "We're doing it my way, remember? Now, get back on your broom and let's go."

Grumbling to herself, Violet picked up the schools old Comet 360 and took to the sky. Malfoy followed shortly after, smiling at the prospect of targeting her with the quaffle.

Maybe he would enjoy this after all.

* * *

><p>Violet spent every night for the rest of the week in her private library, the one she had found while exploring the castle. It was just easier for her in there, to pretend that she wasn't having nightmares. The books were an escape; she had waited a whole year that seemed like forever until she could enter the Wizarding World, where she thought she wouldn't be alone anymore, and here she was, back to hiding in books and adventure stories because real life wasn't what she wanted.<p>

To her great amusement, the room was enchanted. She could think about hot chocolate and cookies, and a plate would appear on the table beside her cushy chair. She could think of a favorite book, one she had read over and over again and suddenly it would be in front of her, waiting to be opened.

She could spend every minute in this room and never need anything else.

Unfortunately, other people didn't agree.

"Ginny says you haven't been sleeping in your dorm."

Violet looked at Colin, who was watching her as they walked to Transfiguration.

"I haven't."

Colin raised an eyebrow curiously. "Where have you been going then?"

"I found a place I like better." She wasn't sure if she should tell him about her room, her escape. She had read enough books and seen enough television shows and heard enough adults talk to know that people didn't generally like it when someone ran away from problems the way she was.

But she was only twelve; what else did they expect her to do? She was supposed to hide from the things that scared her, and she was supposed to have parents there to tell her that she didn't have to be afraid, but she didn't. So she dealt with it in her own way.

She dropped her bag on the floor beside a desk and sank into a chair, Colin sitting down beside her. The class was loud as the other students filed in, talking and gossiping loudly, recounting stories and complaining about the amount of homework they received.

"Well," Colin finally said, after several minutes of silence, "as long as it works for you."

Violet smiled, and Colin grinned back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Hope you liked it, and that you're still interested in the story after such a long break!

Reviews are greatly appreciated and may help me write a bit fasterxP

Speaking of writing, anyone doing NaNoWriMo?


	6. Chapter 6

**AN**: I am so sorry! Again! You must think I'm terrible for making you wait so long! I really didn't mean to do it, but a lot of things came up and I was drowning in deadlines and due dates. I'm still extremely sorry though D=

I own nothing, still.

* * *

><p>Violet has been through many bad Christmases. For the first ten years of her life she was not allowed to eat any of the large ham Aunt Petunia cooked or the pie that she baked. Her presents consisted of items such as a box of unsharpened pencils, a Styrofoam cup, and an old, barely wrapped mint candy. But at the end of the day she had always had Harry; they would exchange their gifts, usually handmade but there was the rare occasion that they had come across some money. They would stay up until midnight, as it was the only day of the year that the Dursleys didn't keep them separated at night. There was no real reason to stay up, other than the fact that they could because they were together, and they didn't have to be alone for that night.<p>

Her first Christmas at Hogwarts the year before was great; she hung around the school and in the common room with Harry and the Weasleys, and it was the only real time she got to spend with her brother. She had hoped this year would be the same. She had been counting on it, actually. She missed spending time with Harry, and Christmas was the best opportunity. It was their tradition.

And it would be the perfect chance to tell him about her flying lessons.

She wouldn't start there, of course. She planned on beginning with her nightmares, something she knew he could relate to, and once she had him softened up a bit, she would mention Quidditch. She knew he loved flying for the same reasons she did; she would remind him of the feeling, and then in as tactful and quick a manner as possible, she would tell him that she had gone against his wishes and learned to fly.

And then in an even quicker and quieter voice, possibly mention that Malfoy was the one who was teaching her.

He wouldn't be happy, she knew. He would probably be angry—Malfoy was the one of the only people at Hogwarts that Harry truly hated. No, he wouldn't be angry, he would be disappointed in her, and the worst part would be that he wouldn't yell. He would speak quietly, with the hurt tone in his voice that she had only heard a few times in her life, the tone that she had _never_ been the cause of before. That teachers who mistreated them, adults who assumed they were weird and shouldn't be allowed in public, that people who had, well, _disappointed _him caused.

This might have been too difficult for her to deal with.

She hadn't decided yet whether it was a good or bad thing that she never got the chance to tell him.

Violet stirred slightly, opening her eyes and blinking into the light. She sat up, the hard back of the chair making her slightly stiff—she wondered how long she had been asleep, and when exactly it had gotten so bright.

"I'm sure McGonagall will let you go into Hogsmeade to buy a new one, Harry." She heard Hermione's voice from nearby, followed by Ron.

"She has to let you, mate. She wants Gryffindor to win the cup just as badly as the rest of us do."

Violet blinked again, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. She looked to her left, in the direction of the voices, and found Harry lying in a bed several feet away, and as the events of the day before came back to her, she realized they were talking about a broom.

"She wouldn't let me go before, I doubt she would let me go now," replied Harry sullenly, tucking his chin to his chest in a manner that made him look somewhat like a toddler who had been told he couldn't go to the playground.

"Well, maybe you could go anyway?" suggested Ron. "Secretly, of course."

_So that explains why Harry always disappears on the days of the Hogsmeade trip_, Violet thought, and she smiled at the thought of Harry breaking rules to have fun rather than to save the school. Even the Chosen One needed a break every once in a while.

"If Harry suddenly had a new broomstick, Ron, when he has no way to access a broom store, I think Professor McGonagall might be just a _little_ suspicious, don't you?"

"It was just a thought, Hermione," Ron grumbled, before turning away from Hermione completely. Violet supposed he had still not gotten over the fact that her cat had tried to eat his rat. She didn't mind Crookshanks so much, so long as he stayed away from Bartholomew.

Violet slowly got up out of her chair, her back protesting slightly at the movement. Sleeping in an uncomfortable chair in an infirmary, apparently, was not good for the body.

She made her way over to Harry, who untucked his chin to look up at her. "Morning, Vi."

She smiled and reached out a hand to mess up his hair even more than it was naturally, the way she did whenever he was sick in bed. "Morning, Harry. Sleep well?"

"Sure," he said happily, "whenever I wasn't having nightmares of a giant tree crushing my Nimbus 2000 into splinters."

She grimaced slightly. "And there's no chance of fixing it?"

Harry shook his head, and then looked at Hermione and Ron. "They managed to pick up the pieces, but it's too destroyed to put back together."

She looked at them as well, and said, "Morning, Ron, Hermione."

"Morning," they said in unison, both turning to glare at the other as if they had been trying to steal their words. Violet laughed slightly, causing Hermione to face her again, a bit of a scowl still on her face.

"Why were you sleeping way over there?" She asked Violet, pointing in the direction Violet had just come from. "There is a chair right next to Harry's bed."

Violet stared at her for a moment; it hadn't occurred to her that she _had_ been sleeping so far away, or that it was weird to do so. She thought back, trying to figure out why exactly she had moved.

Her smile tightened when she remembered, and all she said was, "Sometimes I talk in my sleep, and I didn't want to bother Harry."

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly. "Don't you share a room at home? Wouldn't he be used to it by now?"

"Just a precaution," Violet replied, shrugging and mentally cursing the girl for being so much more clever than the people she usually tried to deceive (namely, Dudley).

Hermione shrugged as well, and her eyebrows resumed their normal height. She looked down at Harry. "We have to go down to Hagrid's now, Harry, but we'll back at lunch."

"Yeah, see you later, Harry," Ron said, rather agreeably for someone who hated when Hermione told him what to do. They both headed toward the door, giving Harry one last look just before they left. Harry's face fell slightly as they walked out of the door and his shoulders slumped a bit more than they were before. Violet concentrated on a tile in the floor to avoid noticing his change in demeanor.

"I should probably go too," she said after a few silent seconds. "Classes to keep up with and all that. I have Double Potions today, and Professor Snape isn't exactly forgiving of tardiness."

"All right," he said quietly, and Violet looked up to see his eyes starting to close. "I'm still a bit tired, anyway."

"That's the sleeping potion that Madam Pomfrey gave you. She said that it would help you recover faster if you could sleep better."

Harry nodded, his eyes fluttering closed completely. "I'll see you later, okay Vi?"

"Okay," she said softly, biting her lip and fighting the urge to make him _promise_ that he would see her as soon as he got out of the infirmary. She reached out and ruffled his hair again. "See you later, Harry."

She picked up her book bag and left the Hospital Wing, the door closing behind her just as Harry started to snore. She was glad that at least one of them could get some sleep.

She hated her nightmares; she hated them more than she hated the Dursleys, more than she hated the kids at her old muggle school, and more than Professor Snape hated Gryffindors. She couldn't sleep in her own dorm anymore—she could hardly sleep at all—and last night she had almost woken up Harry with her screaming. She had moved several beds away and read through three different books to keep herself awake. She didn't want him to know. It was silly, really, that she had nightmares about the dementors and he didn't need to be bothered by it. She was working on it anyway; her lessons with Professor Lupin were to start after the Christmas Holidays, and then she wouldn't be afraid anymore.

She would be a true, brave Gryffindor, the same as her brother, and the same as she was supposed to be.

* * *

><p>A bright light in her face caused Violet to drop the butter knife and toast she was holding, the cutlery clattering against her plate, and she nearly knocked the jam off of the table. Blinking several times until she was able to see again, she moved over on the bench and resumed her breakfast routine.<p>

"Happy Christmas, Colin," she said cheerily as he sat next to her. His camera dangled on a strap around his neck, bumping against the table as he sat down. "Never too early for pictures, is it?"

"Happy Christmas, Violet. And never," he replied brightly, starting to pile his plate with food. "I'm starting a new project."

"Are you?" she asked, looking at him curiously. "I wasn't aware you had a project before."

"Course I did. It was Harry; a chance to take pictures of the most famous person ever doesn't happen very often in the muggle world, you know, and I wanted my dad to know about him and—"

"What's the project, Colin?" She interrupted, knowing that he could go on for a very long time if she didn't stop him.

"Right, right. I want candids of all my friends, starting now and ending in our seventh year, and then I'm going to put together a big poster or scrapbook or something and make duplicates and give everyone one when we graduate Hogwarts."

"That's a big project," she said, taking a bite of her toast. He grinned at her, nodding and bringing a forkful of eggs to his mouth. She swallowed and then added, "it sounds really cool though."

"It will be!" He said excitedly, his mouth still full of eggs.

Violet glanced around the nearly empty Great Hall, taking a small survey of who had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays. Aside from her, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, and Colin, there were six or seven Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clustered together at the Ravenclaw table. There were no Slytherins to be seen, and Violet assumed that none had stayed.

She knew that Malfoy had gone home for the holidays, as he had informed her that the quidditch lessons would be postponed until he returned, but she had better practice on her own. If she hadn't improved at all in his absence, she would be doing laps around the pitch until she fell off her broom.

Violet was actually a bit glad that the lessons were suspended for now; her lack of sleep had started to wreak havoc on her ability to concentrate, and often when she was flying in front of the goal posts, she would allow two or three quaffles to sail right past her and into the hoops. The first few times, Malfoy had merely written it off as inexperience and handed out a few insults, but as her skills grew and she still missed saves that she should be making, he began to grow frustrated.

"Those are easy shots, Potter," he growled at her as they floated in front of the goals a few days before and she was watching her latest missed ball floating down to the ground. "_Concetrate_."

"I'm trying," she snapped back.

"Not hard enough," he replied derisively.

She turned her gaze to him and glared, silently wishing that he would mysteriously fall off of his broom, until she realized that if that happened she would have to explain why she was here with him.

"Fine," she said grumpily, crossing her arms. She was so tired though, and her concentration was wavering. She wanted nothing more than to return to the Room of Requirement (as she had learned that her special room was called in one of the various books she had read while she wasn't sleeping) and take a nap.

"Honestly, Potter, you look terrible." Malfoy stared at her, a look of forced patience on his face. "And for the first time, I'm not trying to insult you."

Violet made a scoffing noise. "Then you have a lot of work to do on your complimenting skills."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her. "You're still not sleeping, are you?"

After several lessons that Violet had yawned her way through, Malfoy had begun to become annoyed with her, and she had had to tell him that she was not sleeping well. She hadn't told him why, but she assumed that he had worked that out for himself, considering he had been present when she started having the nightmares. Since then, Violet had noticed that he had become a _tad_ more lenient with her constant yawning.

Violet simply stared at him, and he took her silence as a confirmation. "I told you, if you want to keep practicing—"

"I can't help it," she said angrily.

"I can't have you falling to your death, Potter, as much as it might please me to allow it to happen."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked irritably. "It's not my fault I can't sleep."

He gave her a condescending smile, and spoke in a tone that matched. "Then take a sleeping potion, Potter, or at the very least, a Pepper Up."

"Right," she said sarcastically, "because I have the kind of access to those types of potions that I can take them whenever I want. Why hadn't I thought of that?"

Malfoy huffed slightly, his breath coming out in a large, white puff. "Then drink more coffee! I don't care what you do, Potter, but you had better fix it soon, or we won't be having any more lessons."

He turned away from her and flew quickly to the locker rooms, leaving her hanging in the air staring after him. She shook her head, mumbling to herself about "hot-headed, pompous little snakes" as she flew down to collect the quidditch equipment and put it back in the chest before taking it to the equipment shed. As she was heading back toward the girls locker rooms, Malfoy appeared in front of her, and it was then that he told her he was leaving for the break and that she had better practice on her own while he was gone.

Maybe her practice would consist of learning how to make a Sleeping Potion on her own.

At that moment, Violet heard loud voices coming from the entrance of the Great Hall, pulling her back to the present.

"Harry, you can't keep it!"

"Of course he can keep it! It was given to him, wasn't it?"

"C'mon, Hermione, I _need_ a broom, remember?"

Violet looked down the table to see Harry, Ron and Hermione coming through the door, all with faintly annoyed looks on their faces. The two boys were walking quickly, leaving Hermione slightly behind them.

The trio sat down a few feet away from Violet and Colin, still talking in loud voices. A few Hufflepuffs looked up from their breakfast and shot them irritated looks at their volume.

"I think we should report it to McGonagall," Hermione said snappily.

"Are you mad?" Harry and Ron asked in unison, staring at their friend.

"It could be cursed!"

"It's a gift!"

"I'm keeping it, Hermione."

To her surprise, Hermione turned to Violet (she hadn't even realized Hermione knew she was sitting there).

"Violet, tell him it's insane to keep the broom."

Violet raised her eyebrows curiously. "Err…what broom?"

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, which Violet figured was directed more toward Harry and Ron that it was at her, and said, "Harry received a Firebolt broomstick this morning. From an anonymous source."

Violet feigned thoughtfulness for a moment, though the answer was obvious to her. It was common knowledge that people were "out to get" Harry: Sirius Black, for one, and anyone who had been a supporter of Voldemort. And it was common sense not to accept anonymous gifts under these circumstances.

"You can't keep it, Harry, surely you knew that?"

"That's precisely what I've been telling him," Hermione said smugly, a look of relief on her face at finally having support in the matter.

"Why can't I?" he burst out angrily. "It was given to me, I can do what I please with it."

"You need to hand it over to McGonagall, Harry," Hermione interjected, preventing Harry from continuing on a rant. Violet was glad, as she had noticed lately that Harry was more prone to bouts of anger and sullenness these days. "It might be dangerous—"

Harry cut her off. "I'm keeping it, Hermione. I need a broom, it's the best there is…"

Violet stared at her brother as he continued his spiel about the broom, mentally chastising him and hoping he could feel it. It was one thing to _think_ about keeping it—Violet could understand that. He had just lost his broom and had now received what she assumed to be a top of the line broom, judging by his and Ron's insistence that he keep it. But it was another thing to actually keep it, and Violet knew Harry was smarter than that. He was the one that had taught her never to trust anything that she couldn't trace to an owner when Dudley had left her an "anonymous gift" outside of her closet door. Harry had refused to let her even open it, and had promptly taken it outside and thrown it in the trash bin, and she had no idea what was inside until he came back in and said that the gift bag had been filled with what looked and smelled like dog poop.

"You can't honestly be going to keep that, Harry." she said softly, interrupting him—she really had no idea what he had been saying, but it didn't matter because there was no way he was keeping the broom. Harry looked up at her, his face cross from his argument with Hermione, who was watching Violet hopefully.

"Violet, I need a broom, and this is the best one out there."

She shook her head. "Harry, it could be dog poop."

Ron, Hermione, and Colin, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during this interaction, looked confused at her choice of words, but Harry's eyes widened slightly at the reference to the lesson he had taught her. Hermione watched the exchange between the siblings silently, and Ron was silently glaring at Hermione, as evidently this was all her fault.

"It's not," Harry said quietly. "It's not dog poop, Vi. I…I can feel it."

Violet stared at him for a moment, shook her head again, and said, "Okay," because that had been the second half of the lesson: trust her instincts, because they are usually right.

"What?" Hermione asked indignantly, disbelief on her face. "That's it? He "feels" that it hasn't been cursed, so it isn't cursed? That's good enough for you?"

Violet shrugged. "If it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to find words for her anger. Violet turned away before she had the chance to formulate a sentence; she had never been on the receiving end of Hermione's witty retorts and she didn't have the desire to at this moment.

There was another flash of light, and she heard Colin say, "for the project!"

* * *

><p>Violet pulled her jacket tighter around her as she walked through the halls of Hogwarts, heading for a courtyard on the east side of the school. It was extremely cold in the castle, and Violet wondered why no one thought to charm it to be at least a more bearable temperature inside. At least outside it was <em>supposed<em> to be cold.

Every minute or so Violet would check behind her shoulder for any professors, doing her best to avoid them. Ever since Sirius Black had attempted to break into the Gryffindor Tower, students were not supposed to be wandering Hogwarts by themselves, let alone going outside without using the fail-safe "buddy system" that they had all been advised to use. She couldn't help but noting how much she loved Hogwarts decorations at this time; there were Christmas trees everywhere, garland and tinsel adorned the walls and bannisters, and the Suits of Armor were enchanted so they sang Christmas Carols anytime someone came by.

She looked around again as she reached the next window; the moonlight was shining through the small square, lighting up a patch on the ground and Violet was motivated to move faster, so she could gaze at the moon and stars from her favorite spot in the courtyard. She began to move on again, thinking her way clear, and just as she reached the turn she was supposed to take, she found herself looking straight into the frayed coat of Professor Lupin.

"Hello, Violet," he said bemusedly, smiling at her.

"Hello, Professor," she replied, taking a step back so she could see him fully. He didn't look well at all; he was much paler than usual, his scars standing out against the light skin, and he had dark circles under his eyes. "Happy Christmas, too, sir."

"Happy Christmas, Violet. I trust you've been having a good holiday."

"Very good, sir," she answered, smiling at him, glad because she hadn't gotten in trouble. "I've probably eaten more pudding than any one person should be allowed."

Professor Lupin chuckled lightly. "That's good to hear. Everyone deserves to have fun during the holidays."

"And you, Professor? How has your holiday been?"

Lupin shrugged. "A bit better than every other day, I suppose." He glanced down at his watch, and raised an eyebrow as he looked back at her. "Shouldn't you be heading down to the Christmas Feast? It should be starting soon."

"Err…" she started, trying to find some way out of going to the feast. She needed time to think of how to approach Harry about her lessons, and with Colin and the twins distracting her, it would never happen, and she had to tell him today because he couldn't possibly be angry with her on Christmas. _No one is really angry on Christmas_, Violet reasoned, thinking of how the argument between Harry and Hermione had been resolved so easily, _it's impossible! _"I was actually going to go outside…"

"You weren't going to the feast? But the feast is always great." Lupin raised his other eyebrow in surprise.

"I know," she began, but he cut her off.

"And you know I can't allow you to go outside by yourself, Violet."

She sighed, wishing she had found some way out of this conversation earlier. _I can't win them all,_ she thought dejectedly. "All right."

She turned in the direction she came, silently wondering if she could take some other route to the courtyard, but was forced to abandon this idea when Professor Lupin began to walk beside her. He gave her a knowing look as they walked, and escorted her the entire way to the Great Hall. She decided that if she wanted her plans to be more secretive, she should probably spend less time with Fred and George—she was suspicious by association.

"Violet, I was thinking we could start your lessons next weekend," Professor Lupin said as they approached the doors of the Great Hall. "If you're up for it, of course."

Violet grinned. "Really?" she asked excitedly, and before she could stop herself she threw her arms around him in delight. "Of course I'm up for it!"

Professor Lupin patted her somewhat awkwardly on the back, laughing lightly. She released him, fighting the urge to shout with glee. She was finally going to learn to defend herself from dementors!

"I'll see you in my office then," he said, starting to walk away. Confused, Violet called after him.

"Aren't you going to the feast, Professor?"

He paused, turning back to her. "Not tonight," he said, glancing out a nearby window, which was letting the moonlight that Violet longed to see tonight shine through. "I'm not feeling well."

"Oh," she said, trying to tone down her excitement. "Well, I hope you feel better, sir."

He smiled at her and Violet again noticed that he really did look ill, even more so now than when she had first encountered him in the hall. She hoped the walk hadn't made him even worse.

"I'll be fine," he said lightly, smiling at her. "Until next week, Violet!" he exclaimed, turning to leave quickly, before she stopped him again. She watched him walk away, and thought that she should probably check on him sometime before her lesson to ensure that he really was okay, and then stepped into the Great Hall.

Even though she hadn't wanted to go to the feast, she couldn't deny that she was looking forward to eating more pudding. She might even save some for later, if she could.

* * *

><p>"I wonder if maybe we all missed Hermione standing from the table first," Colin said a few hours later as he and Violet followed the other Gryffindors up to the tower. "Because I think Harry and Ron are going to kill her."<p>

"I think you're right," Violet said, listening to the argument going on a few feet in front of them.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but it had to be done!" Hermione was saying in a high voice, clearly agitated at how upset the boys were. "It could have been dangerous!"

"Hermione, he _needed_ that broom!" Ron said angrily, refusing to look at Hermione. Harry stayed silent; Violet had noticed that he hadn't said anything other than his initial exclamation of surprise, and she wondered if that was why Hermione was trying so hard to appeal to him.

"They'll be all right," said George, who was walking beside Violet and watching the argument before them as well. "They always are, in the end."

On George's other side, Fred nodded. "They always forgive each other."

Violet nodded as well, but was still slightly worried. She knew how angry Harry had to be if he was being silent, and felt bad for Hermione, who was only doing what she thought was right.

"Harry—" Hermione started, but stopped at an angry look from Ron. She fell silent, still looking at Harry, who shook his head slightly, still not saying anything. Hermione's face fell, and looking deflated, she quickly changed directions, heading back towards Violet and the others.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" she blurted out, and then mentally kicked herself for the lack of tact. Clearly, Hermione was _not_ all right—she looked as if she was about to cry—and it was not her business.

Hermione stopped walking to give Violet a shaky smile. "I'm fine, Violet, I'm just going to go to the library to catch up on homework."

Violet nodded, but Colin said, "But it's Christmas, Hermione. Surely your work can wait—" Violet elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

"There's no time like the present," Hermione said quietly, and then laughed to herself. Shaking her head, she moved past them and in the direction of the library.

"Sorry," Colin said sheepishly, looking at Violet with an apologetic look on his face.

Violet shook her head, but then smiled at him. "It's all right, Colin. Come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him along as they caught up with the others.

She sat with Colin on a sofa in the common room while the others chatted animatedly; Ron and Percy were playing chess and Fred and George were telling the story of the time they had "accidentally" set Professor Snape's hair on fire to Ginny.

"—it was bound to happen someday, with his hair being as greasy as it is—"

Harry sat in a squashy armchair to the side, staring into the fireplace. He hadn't said much since they had gotten back, and Violet thought there had to be more that was upsetting him than the broomstick.

Well, it was now or never.

She got up and walked over to him, settling herself on the arm of his chair. "Everything okay, Harry?" she asked quietly, not wanting others to hear. He nodded at her, and Violet knew he was still too upset for her to say anything about Quidditch yet, but she could work up to it. First, he needed to talk things out.

"You're really angry with her, aren't you?"

He sighed and picked at a frayed string on the cushion of the chair. "I'm not upset, Vi. Just…disappointed."

Violet winced mentally. She knew that tone of voice; it was the one she was trying so hard to avoid. She felt sorry for Hermione.

"Because she turned your broom in."

"Because she didn't trust me," Harry replied bitterly, picking at the chair a bit more forcefully. "I told her it wasn't cursed and she didn't believe me."

"She was just looking out for you," Violet said, tousling his hair. "It _could _have been cursed."

"But I don't think it was—"

"I know you don't, but Hermione does, and she didn't want to take any risks. You should be glad she cares so much about you."

Harry sighed again and looked up at Violet. "I know."

Behind them, the portrait hole swung open and Hermione entered the common room. She was heading swiftly for her room, but was intercepted by Colin, who was once again asking questions he shouldn't.

"I need to apologize, don't I?" Harry asked her, and she smiled at him.

"I think so."

Sighing for a third time, he got up and made his way to Hermione. Violet could see that her eyes were puffy, and knew she had been crying. She didn't blame the poor girl; Ron had been terribly mean and a silent Harry was worse than an insulting one.

Harry made a motion towards the portrait hole, and Violet saw Hermione's face light up slightly. The two headed out of the common room, Harry looking back at Violet and flashing her a small smile.

"Did you do something good?" Colin asked when she came back, looking up at her. "You have that look on your face, like you did something nice."

Violet laughed. "I have an 'I did something nice' look?"

"Sure. Everyone does. Yours is a bit of a smile and you have that look in your eye like when you're studying really hard and you quiz yourself and you remember the answers."

"That's…an interesting look," she said, laughing again. She sat on the couch and slumped onto Colin's shoulder, suddenly tired. "I think I'll be sleeping up here tonight. I'm too tired to go down to the Room of Requirement."

"Will you sleep through the night?" Colin asked worriedly. Violet was always surprised when Colin worried about her sleeping habits—she had never really had anyone who cared about her other than Harry. It was a nice feeling though.

"I think so. It's been a few days since I've really slept, so I think I can make it." As if to prove her point, she yawned, stretching her arms over her head. She stood up to go to her dorm, which she had not slept in for several weeks. "Goodnight Colin. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow."

"Goodnight Violet!" He called after her as she climbed the stairs where her barely used four poster waited for her. She changed quickly, falling into bed and pulling the warm comforter around her. She soon fell asleep, and her dreams were filled with broomsticks and flashing cameras.

She didn't care what she dreamt about, really, as long as she stayed asleep.

* * *

><p>Images whirled through Violet's mind; she tried to concentrate on one, rounding them up in her brain and pulling the one memory to the forefront. It was the happiest she could think of that she hadn't already tried to use. She conjured the image of Colin, hugging her when they had met up in Diagon Alley, tried to recall the happiness she had felt at seeing her friend again.<p>

She pointed her wand at the creature rising before her, its black shredded robes billowing around in, despite there being no wind in the classroom. She let the happiness spread through her, warming her, and the creature came closer and closer.

"_Expecto_…" Violet couldn't concentrate; it was too close now, and it didn't matter that it wasn't a real dementor, it was real to _her_ and it still affected _her_ and she didn't know what to do. The spell wouldn't come to her lips, she could hear the screaming begin. Her knees began to grow weak, and she stumbled backwards slightly. "_Expecto_—expect…" She couldn't do it, the screaming was too loud, the green light behind her eyes was too bright.

Professor Lupin stepped in front of her and soon had the boggart back in the chest. He faced her, pulling out a piece of chocolate as he did, and handing it to her. She let out a groan of frustration and accepted it; it was her fourth piece that night.

"You'll get the hang of it soon, Violet," Lupin said encouragingly, sitting on down beside Violet, who had fallen into a sitting position on the steps that led up to the professor's office.

"This is my second lesson sir, and I still haven't produced a Patronus. I can't think of a strong enough memory, I guess." She closed her eyes tiredly, leaning against the bannister. "I'll never be able to produce a Patronus."

"Of course you will," said Lupin, "it just takes a bit of time. Think of another memory, and we'll have another go in a minute." He stood up, leaving her to her thoughts, and went back to the chest where the boggart resided.

Violet sighed. She was pretty sure she had exhausted all of her good memories, and even the just okay ones. It didn't matter what memory she chose, the boggart and the screams and the images overpowered every memory that she tried; receiving her Hogwarts letter, reuniting with Colin at the beginning of the year, flying for the first time, and even a few from before her Hogwarts days, like the time Aunt Petunia had taken her into the city to see a play (only because Uncle Vernon refused to go with her, and Violet was fairly certain she had no friends she could take) and had actually treated her to ice cream. None were strong enough.

She had even tried memories with Harry, which had once been her happiest memories without a doubt, but were now tinged with sadness, disappointment, confusion, and a slightly angry feeling. Her recent relationship with Harry had her puzzled; one moment she was at his bedside when he was hurt, defending him from his friends, and then helping him to fix things between him and Hermione, and the next it was like she wasn't there, like he had completely forgotten her again. It was too much for her to take, and as much as she loved her brother, she didn't want to have to constantly be on the lookout for the times when he was willing to talk to her and the times when he would rather be with his friends.

The worst part was that Harry didn't even realize what he was doing; everything seemed to be fine in his eyes. He didn't know that he was ignoring her, based on the fact that he would just show up at random intervals, every once in a while, and act as if things had never changed. And she loved those moments, she really did, but she always felt that she relied more on Harry's friendship than he did on hers, and it was unsettling. She didn't want to be so hurt or confused or angry, but she had depended on Harry for so long.

What she needed to do, she thought, was get over it. But this is always much easier said than done.

She just missed him, was all, but he didn't seem to miss her at all.

Shaking her head to rid herself of these thoughts, she focused on searching for a happy memory, the happiest she could think of that she hadn't already tried. Thinking that she had exhausted her store of happy memories, she took a different approach. She thought of different things that made her feel happy: spending time with Harry, Colin checking up on her, Fred and George telling her jokes and stories, getting a good grade on her potions exams, _eating chocolate_, anything that elicited happiness from her.

She stood and walked back to the center of the classroom where Lupin waited by the chest.

"Ready?" he asked quietly, watching her carefully for any sign that she would not be able to do it. But she was determined that she would produce a Patronus this time; she would not leave the classroom until she had. "Have your memory in mind?"

"It isn't really a memory," she said, her face set in a grim determination, despite the happiness circulating within her. "It's just…happiness. Things that make me happy."

Lupin smiled at her, his wand pointed at the chest, ready to unlock it and let the creature out. "As long as it works for you." With a flick of his wand the chest opened. There was a moment's delay before the creature emerged. Violet could hear its ragged breathing, and she steeled herself against the creatures depressing effects.

She pooled all of the happiness she had thought up, concentrating it in what she imagined as her heart. She stared at the faux-dementor, concentrating on what she needed to do. She imagined the happiness as a body of water, smooth and clean, and let it flow throughout her body, spreading from her heart and down into her arms and legs as a river would, coursing through her body.

She pointed her wand at the dementor. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Nothing happened.

She took a deep breath, keeping her wand trained on the creature. She imagined the river flowing faster and faster, stronger and stronger.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

There was a flash of blue light, and suddenly before Violet there stood a wolf, made of the same blue light that had just filled the room, though it was a touch more silver than the light had been. The wolf bared its teeth, turned in a circle, and then sprinted the few feet to the creature, driving it back into the chest. Lupin flicked his wand again, trapping the boggart inside, and turned to Violet, a slightly stunned look on his face.

"It's a wolf," he said simply, staring at the form that now sat at Violet's feet, nuzzling her leg in a very un-wolf like way. Violet laughed as the head repeatedly went through her leg and her fingers as she reached down to pet it, producing a warm feeling within her. After a few seconds, the wolf disappeared, leaving Violet with Lupin, who was still staring at the space where the wolf had been.

Exhausted, Violet slid to the floor, and Professor Lupin once again sat beside her.

"So," he said after a while, once he had let her soak in her accomplishment, "how did it feel?"

She looked up at him, a huge smile plastered across her face. "It's better than chocolate!"

They laughed together and when Violet left a few minutes later, she was in much better spirits than she had been for a while.

That was one thing on her list down, now to focus on the other one.

She made her way to the Room of Requirement, it being far too late for her to visit the real library. She paced in front of the wall three times, waiting for the door to appear, quickly pulling it open when it materialized. She smiled as she took in her personal library and walked to the center where her arm chair sat, a cup of hot chocolate already sitting on the side table, marshmallows and all.

She sat down in the chair and then looked at all the shelves around her.

"I need a book on sleeping potions," she said softly, though there was no one to hear her. Almost at once, several books flew off of the shelves, most of which she had never heard of before. She grabbed the nearest one, _A Guide to Home Remedial Potions_, and searched the table of contents for the potion she was looking for, Draught of Dreamless Sleep, turned to the correct page, and began reading.

* * *

><p>Violet was being shaken awake by several pairs of hands. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.<p>

"What's wrong?" she asked, rather grumpily. She enjoyed her hours of sleep very much, thank you, and she didn't appreciate having them interrupted.

"Sirius Black got into the tower!"

She stared at her dorm mates, shaking her head. Did they just say Sirius Black, _the _Sirius Black, had gotten into the tower? How was that even possible? Sir Cadogan was supposed to _prevent _him from getting in; his constant switching of passwords kept the students out of the tower many times. There was no way Black could have known the correct password to get past the crazy knight.

A thought pushed its way to the front of her mind, fighting the drowsiness to present itself clearly to her.

_Harry. He's here for Harry._

She bolted out of her bed, searching for her slippers and throwing on her robe, but before she could make it to the door Ginny stood before her, her face tense.

"Harry's fine, Violet. He accidentally went after Ron instead."

Violet relaxed, her shoulders drooping as the adrenaline left her body and she felt tired again. As soon as she did it though, she felt bad. Here she was, caring only about her brother when Ginny's own brother could have been seriously hurt. She sent Ginny an apologetic look, and the redhead nodded in return.

"McGonagall wants us all in the Great Hall for the night again," Ginny said, gathering her blanket and pillow from her bed, waiting for Violet and the other girls to do the same, and they walked down the stairs. The entire house was meeting in the common room to walk together, and the girls were some of the last few to come down. Violet caught a glimpse of McGonagall, and the Head of House wore a steely expression as she herded students together, her lips pursed in worry in between

The walk to the Great Hall was silent and tense, most people too worried that Black was going to pop out of the shadows and murder them if they made any noise. Violet had questions—_how did he get in what did he do where is he now_—but thought this was not the time to ask them and filed them away in her brain under Things To Ask Fred and George.

Instead, she tried to make sense of the near-attack. It didn't seem likely to Violet that Black had "accidentally" gone after Ron; he was smart enough to break himself out of Azkaban, he was intelligent enough to sneak into Hogwarts at least twice, and had somehow figured out how to get past Sir Cadogan. Why would a man who could outsmart dementors _and _the Hogwarts professor's mix up Harry and Ron's beds? It didn't make any sense.

But what reason did Black have to go after Ron? As far as she knew, Ron hadn't thwarted any evil villain like Voldemort, whose followers would want to kill him. He hadn't done anything to anger any powerful or insane people.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Black was just so insane from being near dementors for eleven years that he didn't know what he was doing once he had gotten inside the Tower, or that he didn't care who he killed as long as he killed someone. Or maybe he wanted to go after someone close to Harry; the possibilities seemed endless, yet she was absolutely sure that it was no accident.

She would ask Harry about it, she decided as she climbed into her sleeping bag and pulled her own blanket on top, but then she laughed quietly to herself. She wouldn't be able to talk to Harry about it—they hadn't talked since Christmas night, which was several weeks ago, when she had planned on telling him about her Quidditch lessons. Every time she approached him since then, it was always "Later, Violet," or "Can this wait?" or "Not now." He was always with Ron and Hermione, putting her off until later, not giving her the chance to tell him _anything _that she wanted to tell him.

_It had been a stupid idea anyway. Malfoy would have killed me if I told Harry, because he can't keep anything from Ron and Hermione. And he probably wouldn't believe my idea about Black anyway._

Closing her eyes, she pushed all negative thoughts out of her mind, and tried to conjure up the happy feelings again, the same way she had done in order to produce a Patronus. She had found that if she did this every night before she fell asleep, her dreams were much more pleasant, for her and for those around her. Which was just as well, because after reading several potions books, she had discovered Draught of Dreamless Sleep to be a much too complicated potion for her to make with her level of experience. It required ingredients she had never even heard of before, and based on the different books, she had gathered she would need to be in fifth year before she learned how to make it. If she studied on her own, she _might_ be able to figure it out after a few tries, but she would need to get ingredients from Snape, and she didn't think she was quite ready to sneak into the classroom and be able to get away with it.

It didn't matter now, anyway. That was a problem for another day. Right now all she wanted to do was sleep and dream up something nice.

She was extremely proud of herself when she woke up in the morning and discovered she had not disrupted a single person's sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>again, I AM SO SORRY.

Fortunately, I will be on winter break after next week, and will have much more time!

I wasn't too sure about this chapter. There were a few things I was trying to get across that I hope you pick up because I made you wait too long for this chapter to suck.

And also, sorry about the length! It's the longest chapter so far.

Reviews are always welcome!


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Sorry for the wait guys. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, but I wish I did.

edit: I reuploaded the chapter because I made a tiny mistake that would have ruined everything and not made sense at all!

* * *

><p>Violet's elbow rested on the table as she flipped through her Transfiguration textbook, her chin resting in her palm. Colin sat next to her, pouring over her potions notes, which were much more adequate than his, and occasionally letting out a heavy sigh. Ginny sat at their table as well, and every now and then Violet could hear her turning a page or mumbling a spell she needed to remember. Across from her was Luna, and Violet was really not sure what the girl was doing. She had several books in front of her, but she hadn't gotten very far in any of them; she was too easily distracted to get much studying done, but Violet guessed that wasn't much of a problem for the odd Ravenclaw. Luna consistently received good marks, so she must be intelligent.<p>

Colin sighed again, and Violet said, "Don't worry so much, Colin. If you try and memorize too much, you'll force what you already know out of your head."

"Easy for you to say," Colin said, sitting back in his seat and looking at her notes with disdain. "You practically absorb potions information just by looking at the cover of our book. But me, I'm hopeless."

Violet rolled her eyes at his over dramatization. "I just like potions, that's all. What is it you're having trouble with?"

"Remembering how to use salamander eggs in an Ever-Growing Root potion," he replied.

"You have to boil them first," she said, pushing her notes at him so that he would look at them. "And then you de-shell them, crush them, and add them to the potion, but only _after_ you've added the lacewing flies."

"What happens if you add them before the flies?"

"You'll potion will explode," she said simply. His eyes widened and he grabbed the notes again, trying to imprint the information on his brain in case they were asked to create this potion as their final exam.

"I'm only kidding, Colin," she said, laughing. "All that will happen is your Ever-Growing Potion will turn into an Ever-Killing Potion, and no plant will ever be able to grow where you poured it."

Colin released the notes, relaxing when he realized that he wasn't in danger of blowing up his cauldron. "Thanks, Vi," he said.

"And Snape's already said our final exam will only be theoretical. He doesn't trust us with making any potions that he can't help with yet." Violet smiled at him. "So don't worry so much, all right?"

Colin smiled back, although he still looked a bit anxious. To his right, Ginny spoke up.

"It's getting late. Maybe we should get down to dinner. Can you explain the uses of Asphodel to me again later, Violet?"

"Sure," Violet replied, and they gathered their stuff together, leaving the library behind in favor of food.

The potions exam was not as hard as Violet had thought it might be; she was pretty sure Snape lived for the failure of his students, but Violet had breezed through the multiple choice and short answer part of the exam, and written a whole foot and a half of parchment on the uses, side effects, and brewing process of a Swelling Solution, when they were only required to write three-quarters of a foot. She hoped that Snape didn't take off points for her moment of over-achievement.

Her other exams were nowhere near as easy. She struggled through the practical portion of Transfiguration, but in the end her armadillo successfully changed into a pincushion. Charms was easy enough, as Professor Flitwick never made his tests too difficult, and she was fairly certain that Professor Binns never had anyone other than Hermione pass his tests, and so he graded on a curve. Professor Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts obstacle course was by far the most interesting of all her exams. She made it through with little problem, although the hinkypunks did slow her down a bit, and was rewarded with an A and a proud smile when she exited the course.

Now, as she was walking through the halls before her final quidditch lesson with Malfoy, she could relax. There was no need for her to study or do homework for three months, and she was glad for it, but it meant that she had to once again return to the Durlsey's.

"Maybe I can just stay here for the summer holiday, Bartholomew," she said to her toad, lifting him up to eye level as she passed through a corridor on the third floor. "I think that would be much better than returning to Privet Drive. What do you think of that?"

The toad croaked loudly, and Violet took it as agreement.

Smiling, she placed the toad back into the pocket of her sweatshirt, his head sticking out so he could see where they were heading. Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around she saw a rather tall boy, a few years older than her, still wearing his school robes despite classes being over for the year. His tie signified he was a Hufflepuff and there was a Prefect badge pinned to his chest.

"Violet Potter?" he asked, a smile on his face. Violet was taken aback by his perfectly white teeth; she had never seen a more beautiful smile.

"Yes," she replied a bit warily, untrusting of anyone with a smile like his. No one could have teeth like his.

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office as soon as possible."

"Oh, uhm, thanks…" she said, trailing off when she couldn't remember his name. She looked up at him apologetically, hoping he wouldn't take offense.

"Cedric," he said, laughing lightly.

"Right," she answered, nodding her head. "Thanks, Cedric."

"Just doing my duties," he replied, heading off in the direction that he came.

Violet looked down at her toad. "What do you think he wants?"

The toad stayed silent, looking back up at her without blinking.

"I don't know either," she said as she started in the direction of the Headmaster's office. However, when she reached the stone gargoyle protecting the staircase that led to his office, Violet realized she had a problem. She had no idea what the password was.

"Do you think you could let me by?" she asked the gargoyle in the most pleasant voice she could muster. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see me, but I don't know the password."

"No password, no entrance," the gargoyle replied, refusing to budge.

"But he didn't tell me a password," she said.

"Not my problem."

Violet glared at the statue. "No need to be rude."

The gargoyle simply sat there, causing Violet to groan in frustration. She wondered if maybe she could just push the statue over, if she tried hard enough, and was just about to try when the gargoyle hopped out of the way and the door opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore.

"Oh, Miss Potter, you're here! Excellent! I was hoping I would get to speak to you before I went out."

"You didn't give me the password, sir," she said, looking pointedly at the gargoyle.

"Ah, an unfortunate mistake, but one easily remedied, as we both can see. Please, come in." Professor Dumbledore stood back to let her go by and she took the necessary few steps forward until she reached the spiral staircase that carried her to the top. She waited for him to open the door to his office before entering and settling in a comfy chair in front of his desk.

"Final exams have just finished up a few days ago," Professor Dumbledore said, taking a seat across from her. "Do you think you did well?"

"Fairly well," she said, smiling at him. His eyes brightened in response, twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Well," he said, leaning forward, "I heard from something rather interesting from Professor Snape."

Violet gulped. _Oh no._ He hadn't liked that she wrote more than was required, and now he was going to punish her somehow. Or maybe she hadn't done as well as she thought, and Professor Dumbledore was going to tell her she failed miserably and needed to take Remedial Potions next year—

"Did he?" she managed to get out.

"He did," Dumbledore replied, still smiling at her. "Very interesting, in fact."

"Really?" she said, her heart beating faster—they were going to skip Remedial Potions and just kick her out, she knew it—"What did he say?"

"He told me," said Dumbledore slowly, so slowly that Violet had to resist the urge to scream "WHAT!" at him. "He told me that you were the only second year to receive a perfect score on their exam."

Violet's heart calmed and her breathing slowed. She wasn't being kicked out, she hadn't failed her exam—she had done much better than not failing, she had received a perfect score!

"In fact, not only did you receive a perfect score, you answered the extra credit questions correctly as well." Professor Dumbledore's eyes continued to twinkle, a smile stretched across his face as he looked down his crooked nose at her.

"Really?" she asked excitedly, barely able to contain her excitement. No one ever achieved extra credit on Snape's exams. Bartholomew let out a croak of delight, one even louder than his croak in the hallway.

"Professor Snape was not as surprised as you seem to be. He was under the impression that you had a knack for his subject, although he a much different opinion of Harry's ability."

Violet laughed. "Harry is much better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than he is at Potions."

Dumbledore chuckled as well. "That does not surprise me. Might I ask, Miss Potter, how you came to be so good at Potions?"

Violet shrugged. "I read a lot, I guess. Potions interested me—it's like cooking, but with a higher chance of explosions."

Dumbledore laughed at that. "Very well put, Miss Potter."

"I've read a lot of books on potions this year, and I suppose the information stuck with me."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Very good, very good. It's always nice to find the one area in that we both love and excel in." He smiled at her again, and Violet was certain that she had never felt happier in her life; it was almost like having a proud grandfather who was congratulating her. "On behalf of Professor Snape and myself, I would like to offer my compliments on a job very well done."

"Thanks, Headmaster," she said, unable to keep the grin off of her face. That is, until she caught sight of the clock behind him. She was supposed to be down at the Quidditch Pitch in twenty minutes. "Err…not to be rude, Professor, but is that all you wanted to speak with me about? I have someone waiting on me."

"Actually," he said, and Violet noticed he had taken on a slightly more serious tone, "I wanted to speak with you about that as well. I trust this someone is Mr. Malfoy?"

Violet's eyes widened and she stared at the man sitting across from her. Leave it to Dumbledore to know something no one was supposed to know. She nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

"I've noticed that you have spent quite a bit of time with him this year. Am I correct?"

Violet shrugged. "I wouldn't say 'quite a bit'. Some, yes, but not much."

Professor Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Have you not been meeting at the Quidditch Pitch every few weeks since near the start of the school year?"

"Err…yeah," she said weakly, her argument crumbling under his scrutiny. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," he said, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "I was merely curious as to why your rendezvous' were taking place."

"He's teaching me quidditch, sir," she said, wondering if he would buy it. It was the truth, after all; she really didn't think she could lie to him if she tried. He would see right through it.

"Is there any particular reason you asked him to do so, instead of your brother?" Dumbledore looked at her knowingly, and Violet sighed.

"Harry didn't want me to learn quidditch, sir. He thought it was too dangerous for me to try yet." Violet looked down at her hands, hoping that the headmaster wouldn't be too upset with her for going against her brother's wishes. Harry would be upset, she knew that; his act of protectiveness was the most brotherly thing he had done all year.

"And you thought differently?" Dumbledore mused, his fingers coming together under his chin.

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, waiting for him to tell her she was wrong.

"And Mr. Malfoy offered to teach you?" he asked curiously.

Violet smiled slightly. "I asked him."

"Does Harry know about this arrangement?"

Violet shook her head. "No, sir."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. "It's never wise to lie to our loved ones, Violet."

She sighed again. "I know, sir." Again, there was no use in denying his words.

"Well, as long as you know," he said, looking down at her with an amused expression on his face. "I am quite glad to know, however, that it is possible for a Malfoy and a Potter to be together for a prolonged amount of time and not try to destroy each other. I was beginning to have my doubts. Would it be correct to assume that you two have developed a friendship?"

Violet wrinkled her nose. "I don't know about that, sir, but I am much more tolerable of him."

"I would imagine so," he replied, a hint of laughter in his smile. "Humans tend to grow more accepting of the things to which they are frequently exposed, even if they had a previous distaste for it."

Violet wasn't entirely sure how to respond to this, so she settled for smiling and nodding.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer," Dumbledore said, his expression still amused. "Congratulations, once again, on your exceptional Potions talent, Miss Potter."

"Thank you, sir," Violet replied, standing up and leaving as quickly as she could without seeming too rude; she was going to have to hurry if she wanted to make it to her lesson on time avoid an even more snarky than usual Malfoy.

She hurried through the hallways, which were quite empty for a weekend; the students were still recovering from their exams, it seemed, and were not keen on leaving their dorms just yet, which was just as well for Violet, as it made her trek through the halls much faster. So fast, that just as she reached the bottom of the last set of stairs she ran directly into another person, bowling them over and landing on top.

"Oof!" she let out as her breath was knocked out of her, and after a few seconds, the person she knocked over said, "Would you mind getting off now?"

"One moment," Violet said, inhaling deeply to catch her breath. She made a mental note to somehow stay away from stairs for a while, because they were dangerous objects that always seemed to cause her harm.

"Just because you're small, Potter, doesn't mean that your elbow digging into my ribs doesn't hurt."

Violet rolled off of the person and onto her back, feeling the cold floor through her sweatshirt. "Just because I ran into you, Malfoy," she said, recognizing the drawl, "doesn't mean that _I _wasn't hurt as well."

"What are you doing, Draco?" A voice from above them asked in a pinched tone. Violet looked up to see Pansy, peering down at her with distaste, her squashed nose wrinkled in revulsion.

"What does it look like?" Malfoy asked icily, staring back at the Slytherin girl with a cold look. "This stupid Gryffindor didn't pay attention to where she was going and she knocked me over." He picked himself up off the floor and turned to face Pansy. "What do you want?"

Pansy was still watching Violet, a slightly confused expression on her face, as the Gryffindor stood up and brushed herself off, sticking her hand in her pocket to make sure her toad was all right. Malfoy cleared his throat.

"What did you want, Pansy?"

Pansy turned her attention from Violet to Malfoy. "I wanted to see what you were doing today. I thought maybe we might do something before term ends."

"I'm busy today," Malfoy snapped, and then walked in the opposite direction, towards the closest exit to the grounds. Violet, not wanting to follow him at the moment, stood there awkwardly while Pansy watched Malfoy walk away. Violet almost felt bad for the girl, until Pansy sent her a heated glare and spun on her heel, heading back into the dungeons. She waited a few more seconds, and then Violet took off after Malfoy.

"You're going to be late," Malfoy said when she caught up to him.

"But I'm with you," Violet said, confused.

"Yes, but I can get there whenever I want. You, however, are supposed to be there before me."

Violet rolled her eyes. "The last lesson, and you start making up rules."

"Given that you nearly killed me just now, I shouldn't even be giving you a lesson."

Violet smirked at him, laughing lightly. "Aww, was Malfoy hurt by the little second year?"

"Don't push it, Potter," he said tersely, but Violet could tell he wasn't really angry; his eyes hadn't taken on the hard glint that they always took on when he was truly annoyed at her.

"Lighten up," she said, skipping slightly ahead and turning to face him. "It's a nice day today. Don't ruin it with your attitude."

"I don't have an attitude," he said, "you're just too perky for the average person."

"Well, I'm not a teenager yet. I'm still capable of emotions other than angst," she said, smiling at him to prove her point. She glanced behind her, in the direction of the pitch, and said, "I'll race you."

He raised his eyebrows slightly. "No."

"Come on," she said, putting on her best imitation of a pouting child—she had never needed that expression, as it would never have worked on the Dursleys, and so she wasn't entirely sure how it should be done. "Please?" she added hopefully, looking up at him. She had hoped that, today being their last lesson, he would be in one of his better moods; one of the moods that meant he would talk to her rather than tolerate her.

He shook his head. "I'm not indulging in your childish games, Potter."

She frowned slightly, but quickly changed tactics. "Not scared that I'll win, are you, Malfoy?"

She smiled as she practically felt his change in demeanor, as she saw his chest puff up at the threat to his pride. She watched him, and then, without waiting for a response, she turned and sprinted toward the pitch. It was a few seconds before she felt him next to her, his strides matching hers. From there it became an all-out battle for the lead; Violet would take the lead, but as soon as she did Malfoy would pass her, until she pushed herself forward again. This cycle continued until they reached the outside of the pitch and they came to a stop, bent over with their hands on their knees to catch their breath.

"I won," they both panted at the same time.

Violet looked up and caught Malfoy's eye; he was breathing as hard as she was, and for some unknown reason, she found this hilarious. She fell to the ground in a fit of giggles, clutching a stitch in her side that was worsened by her laughter. She caught his eye again and this time he started to laugh, doubling over due to the strain on his lungs.

"C'mon Potter," he said between laughs, "we've got work to do."

* * *

><p>An hour and a half later, Violet was pulling her wet hair up into a ponytail as she left the pitch, Malfoy walking beside her. It had been a very good last lesson, they both agreed; she had really developed well as a keeper, and if the Gryffindor Captain agreed to take her on as reserve keeper, the Gryffindor team would be in good shape for the next year.<p>

"Wood should be thanking me. He now has a somewhat suitable replacement," Malfoy said as they walked back to the castle.

"Thanks for the compliment," she said drily, eliciting a small chuckle from Malfoy.

"What can I say? You had the best Quidditch coach money can buy." He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, typical for any exchange between them.

But she had to admit that Malfoy was a pretty good coach. He managed to teach her, someone with absolutely no quidditch experience, and turn her into a decent player. Granted, he had taken every opportunity to insult her and everyone that she knew, but then again, Violet thought, it would be weird if he hadn't.

Never, however, did he insult her Quidditch ability, and for good reason: as the one training her, he was holding himself responsible for how well she did, and he never disrespected anything that was a product of his work.

Yes, much to her dismay, Violet was actually grateful for the blonde haired prat's sense of self-preservation that forced him to accept her deal, and she figured she should complete her end of the bargain now. She reached into her sweatshirt pocket, pulled out a photo that was folded in half, and handed it to Malfoy.

"Here," she said. He opened and studied it momentarily before laughing.

"I'm still not entirely sure why I agreed to this," he said as he refolded the photo and put it in his pocket. "It would have been easy to take the camera from you and destroy the film."

"Not without Madam Pomfrey coming out of her office and getting us both into trouble," she said, though she wondered where this was coming from. In all of their lessons, he hadn't ever expressed that he felt he had a way out of their deal. "Because we both know that if you had tried, I would have created a _huge_ ruckus in the Hospital Wing."

Malfoy nodded but a troubled look took over his countenance momentarily, but it quickly faded and was replaced by his usual expression of apathy.

"Thanks," Violet said after a while, when they were almost back to the castle. She smiled at Malfoy and to her surprise, he actually smiled back.

"Don't mention it, Potter," he said, coming to a stop a few yards from the door they had exited Hogwarts through. "Really, don't mention it, ever again. No one needs to know I helped a Gryffindor, even if it was to protect myself."

She laughed. "You don't have to worry about that. Like I would ever want anyone to know that I asked a Slytherin for help."

"They might be proud," he replied, "considering you blackmailed me."

"That seems more like something a person of your house would be proud of," she said teasingly, "not mine. We lions have morals, you know."

"Slytherins have morals too," he answered. "Just a different set than most people."

Violet let that statement settle, unsure if he was still joking or if he was serious; his voice had taken on a more grave tone. "I'll have to remember that," she said lightly, looking awkwardly at her shoes.

Malfoy looked up to their school. "I suppose we ought to go in separately," he said, pointing his chin at the castle. Violet nodded and took a step back.

"You first. I'm not ready to go in yet."

He nodded and began to head towards the door. "Well, Potter," he started, and then looked at her, smirking. "It was fun while it lasted."

She stared at him in disbelief. Did he just say something was fun? Something that had to do with her? He was full of surprises today.

"Er…yeah. See you around, Malfoy."

"Don't count on it," he said, turning swiftly and walking into the castle, leaving her standing there, shaking her head.

He was so confusing sometimes. He could go from hating her to being friendly in the blink of an eye; one moment he was insulting, the next he was racing her across the grounds and laughing with her. But Violet supposed that must be the way of thirteen year old boys. Harry was just as confusing, while she understood Colin, who had not yet turned thirteen, very easily. She would have to make him promise that he wouldn't become a mystery to her when he turned thirteen, which would be in a few weeks.

Violet looked around the grounds; it looked even more beautiful as the sun went down and dusk began to settle. The sun was peeking out over the forest, the light reflecting off the lake. She wished that she never had to leave, that she never had to return to Privet Drive with its perfectly trimmed square hedges and lack of a Giant Squid wielding body of water. Privet Drive was so boring, so ordinary, and she could never hope to fit in there. Here at Hogwarts, everything was extraordinary and brilliant; she wasn't considered much here, either, but for an entirely different, much better reason. Here she was like everyone else, could do the same thing. She was so used to being different and she liked that she had a place where she was the same.

She saw Dumbledore down by Hagrid's hut, with what looked to be the Minister of Magic standing behind him, his purple bowler hat in place. She caught something out of the corner of her eye; it looked like something large was moving, and she turned to see the Whomping Willow, perfectly still. Confused, Violet guessed that the tree's abrupt stop was what caught her eye. But what held her gaze was the sight of Harry and Hermione running directly at the tree, chasing Ron, who was being dragged by what looked to be a large black dog.

Violet took off running, not stopping to think that perhaps she should get a teacher, or that Professor Dumbledore was _right there_ and that he probably would have been more help than a twelve year old girl. But Harry and Hermione were running directly at a killer tree, and the best solution she could think of was to also run directly at the killer tree.

"Harry!" she yelled as the tree swung a thick branch directly at him. "Duck!"

He dropped to the ground, just barely missing getting a branch to the head, and then rolled over so he could see her. "What are you doing? Get out of here!"

Violet didn't have time to answer, jumping over another branch that seemed to come out of nowhere, and then took off after Ron, who was now being dragged into a hole at the base of the trunk. She raced toward him and threw herself onto the ground, stretching her arm out and grabbing a hold of his hand. She dug her toes into the ground, trying to stop him from going any further, but the dog was too strong for either of them. Her arms burned at the strain of holding on, but she managed to stay latched onto Ron's hand as the dog pulled them inside the tree.

"Violet!" she heard Hermione call out one last time, and then there was nothing.

The dog had stopped pulling them; they seemed to have traveled pretty far in the tunnel in a short amount of time. It didn't even look like a tunnel anymore; they seemed to be standing in a hallway of a house, a very dusty, probably unused house. She let go of Ron's hand and pushed herself up off the floor, coughing slightly as she took in a breath full of dust.

She examined the hallway. The wallpaper was outdated and torn in several places. There were no windows in this particular hallway, although she could see at least one in the intersecting corridor. She heard Ron whimper behind her and she turned to check on him.

"Ron! Are you all right?" She knelt down next to him and looked at his leg through the hole in his jeans. It was bloody and bruised, and didn't sit correctly. She hoped it wasn't broken.

"He'll be fine," a voice said, and Violet froze. "It's nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix."

Violet looked up slowly, unable to think of anything else, her mind seemingly paralyzed with shock. The large black dog that had dragged her in here had disappeared, and in his place stood Sirius Black. She gasped in surprise and accidentally gripped Ron's leg tighter, causing him to cry out in pain.

"Come along," Black said, looming over them. "I've got some business to take care of."

* * *

><p>AN: So, this was originally supposed to be the last chapter of POA, but...my cat died today, and I've had her for five years so I was really attached to her, and I wasn't in much of a writing mood, so I decided to post what I had so far and I'll wrap it up next chapter. I hope you don't mind D=<p> 


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